Frozen Sky
by Jedi Boadicea
Summary: Hitsugaya Toushiro is called a genius, the youngest Captain in Soul Society. What path did he walk to claim that title? See author page for spoiler warnings.
1. Part One: Waking to Frost

**FROZEN SKY**

Part One: Waking to Frost

Even years later, looking back, he couldn't say exactly what had driven him to stand at the edge of Rukongai and make the final choice to step over, into the Seireitei.

Nonetheless, he always had an answer on hand for when the issue inevitably came up, as it had all too often especially in the early years. Most of the time it was the same answer, one that the nobility would happily overlook with condescension, and the rest would easily believe; Rukongai just wasn't enough for someone with ambition, he told them. But he supposed the exceptions to the standard answer were closer to the truth.

When Yamamoto-soutaichou had posed the question in the final stage of his Captain's exam, he had replied, with the air of cold solemnity he had by this point managed to perfect in order to deal with life at the academy, and then in the Gotei 13, that he had chosen to become Shinigami because the power within him left him no other choice; it was a call to duty he could not ignore.

Even then he was aware that such a claim from anyone else might have smacked too much of hubris. But credibility had to be leant, when it came from a genius. From the reincarnation of a heavenly guardian.

People liked to talk, he had learned. They liked to label things that intimidated them, box what made them uneasy into manageable packages. He let them. At least it kept them quiet.

Much later, when Matsumoto had asked him the question, far too early in their partnership to have earned an honest answer, he told her that even from the outside it was clear that the Shinigami in charge in the Seireitei couldn't tell their heads from their asses, and someone had to come in and sort things out. He hadn't used exactly those words, of course; Matsumoto had colored them in for herself. But the jist, at least, had initially been there.

Later in their partnership, when he might have been more honest, she knew better than to ask. Or maybe she no longer felt the need to wonder. He liked to think it was the latter.

And when Hinamori asked, he told her that he figured becoming Shinigami was the only way to ensure he had enough food to suit his appetite. He still wasn't sure whether or not to be irritated by the fact that she had accepted the answer at face value so readily. Of course she must also have seen in his motivation the memory of childhood nights spent together watching the stars, but even after achieving his captaincy she still persisted in asking him if he was eating enough to keep him growing.

They were none of them lies, really. Not quite. But none of them were truth, either.

And the only one who had never asked the question already knew the answer, though he had never given it in words. In that relationship, there was no need for words, no need for questioning.

He had followed Momo; he would never say it aloud, but he couldn't deny it. Nor had he wanted to be left alone in Rukongai, with hunger always gnawing at his insides, insatiable, larger than his body. He hadn't wanted to content himself with watching Jidanbou through eyes too sharp to miss inadequacies, and an instinct too sharp not to realize his own potential. He could not be content with simple days, no matter how peaceful, isolated by his own awareness of unused ability.

All of it true.

But in the end, he had stepped over the threshold into the Seireitei that day because the dragon coiling inside his chest would not let him rest, would not let him sleep, would not let a single night pass that was not filled with an echo of howling winds, and a roar like breaking ice chasing him through all of his dreams.

Hyourinmaru called him, and he came. In the end, it was as simple as that.

* * *

It took him several years after Hinamori's departure to come to his decision. Life in Jyunrinan, first district of west Rukongai, was not hard, and it was easy to let days slip by, to lose whole afternoons lying on his back in the grass, feet submerged at the edge of a tranquil pool or stream, watching the clouds gather and part above him, seeing in them fluid and serpentine shapes.

He sometimes wondered if his spirit power might not have awoken so soon if not for Hinamori's visits, and the way her power, as it increased through training, became more and more palpable every time she arrived, leaving a painfully sharpened awareness in her wake of something growing inside of him as well.

He fought it, for a while. Even after realizing what it was, and what it could mean. He wasn't at all certain that he _wanted _to go to Hinamori's beloved school; for the most part it sounded like a boring waste of time. He hadn't been able to understand why, if someone had the power necessary to be Shinigami, they wouldn't instinctively know how to use it.

Take Jidanbou, for one. Now there was a man who made a mockery of schooling. If that was the sort of education the Shinigami academy provided, he figured he could do without it. It had taken him a whole month to get Jidanbou to correctly remember a handful of common sense rules. He'd stopped at three, before moving on to equally important things like, when you're the size of a tall building, make sure you look to see who might be beneath you before sitting, or farting, or any other activity that might cause the unwary bodily harm. Despite the imminent importance of such considerations, three rules seemed about all Jidanbou could manage.

The integrity of a one-on-one duel had been the hardest lesson to impart, not least of which because he'd had to impart it through a split lip, a near broken nose, and a gash on his forehead that kept curtaining his vision with blood. Street fights weren't perhaps as common in Jyunrinan as they could be in the outer districts, but every place had its bullies, and Hinamori was the _only _person allowed to call him Shiro-chan without getting a fist to the face.

Jidanbou had nearly squashed the bullies flat before Hitsugaya could get a word out to stop him. Convincing the massive Shinigami to let him finish the fight alone had been hard enough, and trying afterwards to explain _why _had been even harder. It took the whole day and then some. But in the end, whether or not Jidanbou truly understood the point of honor, he had at least promised not to interfere should a similar situation arise again. After all, it would be a dark day indeed when Hitsugaya Toushiro needed help beating down a few bullies.

And when he finally did decide to follow in Momo's footsteps, Jidanbou nearly cried with happiness. It had been perhaps one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, and he had never wished more fervently for more height from which to stare the big oaf down.

"Oi," he'd said testily, crossing his arms, and trying to ignore the gathering spectators. "They can hear you all the way out in Zaraki, Jidanbou!"

There were supposed to be proper procedures in place for this sort of thing, of course. Enough people came out of Rukongai with strong spirit force to merit the establishment of appropriate steps, but the truth was that almost nobody followed them. Most residents of Rukongai were too intimidated to approach the Seireitei, and Shinigami candidates were typically identified by other Shinigami out on patrols. More often than not, the requisite testing of spirit power could be determined on the spot, with no need to call in someone from the academy proper.

But once he'd made his decision, he had no intention of waiting around for some Shinigami out on patrol to stumble across him. He intended to walk right up to the academy doors, and he doubted Jidanbou was about to raise any objections.

Unfortunately, the big man's lack of objections extended so far in the other direction that the gate guardian insisted on escorting him all the way to the academy.

"Are you supposed to leave your post, Jidanbou?" he'd asked desperately.

"I will know if someone attempts to pass through my Gate," Jidanbou had said, with an unusual air of gravity, and Hitsugaya had to take him at his word. "This is a special day. I, Ikkanzaka Jidanbou, Seireimon Guardian, should take Shiro-chan to the school myself."

And then, some people's faces were just too far away to hit properly.

"Oi. Jidanbou. I told you not to call me that."

But Jidanbou just sniffled happily, wiping at his eyes, and then attempted to pat his small friend on the head, only to find his target had neatly sidestepped and skipped safely to the other side of him before a single strand of white hair could be moved from its unruly state.

"They'll be as happy as I am to know that you'll be Shinigami," Jidanbou rumbled on. "I can't wait to see their faces."

Hitsugaya doubted that, of course. Even on that first day, he'd had a pretty good idea of the treatment he should expect. Jidanbou's simple-mindedness gave him a sort of clarity of vision; he had long ago sensed power in his young friend where even Hinamori had not. Hitsugaya did not expect others to accept the presence of that power as easily.

He was right, of course.

And as the hours dragged painfully on – amused student face after amused student face, flummoxed instructor after flummoxed instructor, until finally someone wise enough to be in a position of real authority was summoned to sense the truth of the matter – he had to fight down the urge to throw back his head and let loose the dragon's roar building in the back of his mind, writhing in response to so much spirit pressure surrounding him like a physical force, a pounding tide. It was the first time in his life that he had felt it like this.

But not the last.

And he was a fast learner. He had to be.

He learned, that very first day, that a dragon could be more than fury and force. It could be chilled patience, too.

And when, at the end of that day, the procession of progressively more and more bemused officials had finally brought him – special case, they said – unique – to the ultimate authority in the academy, the founder, the one whose final judgment could not be gainsaid where such a strange young petitioner was concerned, Hitsugaya Toushiro was able to look the old man in the eye, and meet banked fire with passionless ice.

A dragon knew how to recognize power. It knew when to fear, knew when to offer appropriate deference.

But it could never learn to abandon pride.

* * *

In most ways, he'd been entirely wrong in his skepticism of the training received at the Shinigami Institute. True, there were more than a few extremely tedious exercises in the obvious, but in the privacy of his own thoughts he could acknowledge that for the most part he found the training exciting. He had understood that there was a power growing inside of him that needed release, but he hadn't anticipated just how _good _that would feel.

Almost as soon as he began his training, the restless dreams ceased. Learning just what his body could do and what his will could summon gave him an entirely new understanding of the expressions Hinamori had worn when she came to visit, aglow with pleasure and the aftermath of hard work. He thought he might even have dropped haughty pretense long enough to tell her so, if she'd been there to talk to.

But of course she wasn't. Not anymore. He might have followed at last, but he'd come too late. Word of his acceptance to the academy spread, and she had come swiftly to see him, shining with joy and pride – but she'd left again with just as much haste.

"I'm a seated officer in Aizen-taichou's squad now after all, Shiro-chan. He needs me. There's always so much work to do."

He wondered sometimes if he would have pushed himself so hard if she had been there at the academy still, training beside him, even as his senior. And he could never quite decide if he had pushed himself as he did in order to be free to associate with her as a full Shinigami outside of the academy walls, or if he'd done so merely to escape the whispers and jibes and antagonism that surrounded him from his first day to his last as a student there.

Because while he had been wrong about the quality and rewards of the training itself, he had been perfectly right in his expectations of the reaction his presence would engender.

After it was known that his acceptance into the academy had been mandated by Yamamoto Genryuusai himself – and it was known in every hall and classroom with astonishing speed – no one questioned his right to be there. But they tested him every day, pushed him, demanded by force of competition or expectation that he prove himself worthy of such an unprecedented commendation. So while in other circumstances he might have allowed himself to linger, to spend time savoring his training, to explore the mysteries of kidou in more depth or to put the perfecting touches on shunpo that only years of training could really provide, the pressure to be done and gone was too much to endure for long.

And because they would have dismissed him as childish if he had lashed out with the anger or impatience he was truly feeling, he learned to be cold. It came to him easily. The dragon inside of him helped.

Hyourinmaru.

He would always remember clearly the exact moment when all of the doubting whispers stopped, and when the murmurs overheard in passing changed from skepticism to envy. The day he first held Hyourinmaru in his hands.

No student accepted to the academy was too weak to summon a zanpakutou, but some could never take it beyond that stage, their blades never waking with life, never finding a voice with which they might speak to their wielders. A Shinigami wielding an asauchi would never find a position in the Gotei 13, and rarely ever in the Onmitsukidou's special operations brigades - though some who could still excel in demon magic might make it into the Demon Arts Corps. Yet regardless of any other strengths they might possess, the inability to awaken a spirit within their zanpakutou was inevitably considered a weakness.

He would have been lying had he said there wasn't a fear in the back of his mind that he might fail to summon a worthy blade, but there had been no one around to lie to anyway.

As soon as his hands closed around the tsuka of the sword before him, however, all doubts were blown away by the gust of cold wind that seemed to tear through his body. He barely noticed the shimmer of air surrounding the sword as the tsuba began to alter its shape at his touch; the curves of the plain oval guard melted and stretched, crystallizing at last into the four points he would find himself tracing with his fingers in the privacy of his own room for many weeks afterwards. But at that moment the physical transformation went unnoticed, drowned by the roaring in his ears and the icy film that seemed to slip over his vision.

The dragon had waited a long time for this moment.

Even that day, he had sensed there was a name, a vital name, on the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken. Yet as eager as he might have been to speak it – and Hyourinmaru to hear it – it evaded him for many frustrating months.

Which did not, of course, do anything to change the wide-eyed expressions he'd seen on the faces of the other students around him that day as they watched his zanpakutou – the only one in the courtyard to do so – twist with life at his first touch. The first of many.

It was a day for firsts that would later bear much repeating.

That evening, as he walked back to his sleeping quarters with his sword through his obi for the first time, was also the first time he heard the word murmured behind his back.

Tensai.

Genius.

It would come to be used as an insult as often as it was used for praise, and because of that he never knew quite how he felt about it. There had been some pride, at first. And later, irritation. Eventually came the weariness.

How could he ever explain to them that it wasn't a matter of genius, but simply a matter of need? There was a dragon inside of him, and if he didn't do something to set it free then it was going to tear him open.

He wanted to tell Momo about it, to lay down on a rooftop somewhere, or on the banks of a stream surrounded by tall grasses, and watch the stars wink at them while he tried to put his feelings into speech, as he had so rarely tried to do in their childhood years together.

But she wasn't there, and so he never strained himself to find the words.

* * *

It was Oounabara-sensei who first began to speak to him as something more than an oddity to be treated with indulgence or caution. All of the instructors had been uncompromising in their demands on him, making no exceptions for his age where performance was concerned. But even so, when sparring was done and the echoes of incantations faded, they couldn't seem to stop themselves from speaking to him as they would to a lost child.

It was a minor miracle, really, that no one at the academy ever thought to call him Shiro-chan. There was perhaps at least one positive side to Hinamori's absence.

But after the day in the courtyard with his zanpakutou, Oounabara-sensei would stop to speak to him every time they passed in the hallway.

"Hitsugaya-san," he would say – and it was san now, not kun, not chan, and though he wished he were strong enough not to care, Hitsugaya soaked it in almost desperately, even if he never allowed the need to show. "Hitsugaya-san, how has your kidou training been progressing? Sparring? Hakuda? You performed well on the exam yesterday. Your name has been mentioned many times at staff meetings this week. It is good weather for terrain training, wouldn't you agree?"

It was Oounabara-sensei who first told him about Shiba Kaien.

"He was the first person to have advanced through the curriculum so quickly. Others have cut years from their training, but only Shiba Kaien was able to reduce all six years to one." A solemn look, then; an almost proud one. "I believe, however, that one stands before me now who will match that record, if not surpass it. Work hard, Hitsugaya Toushiro. You will not regret your efforts."

After that, he often found himself wondering how Shiba Kaien had performed in a certain examination, how swiftly Shiba Kaien might have attained mastery of the sixties level hadou, and how swiftly he, Hitsugaya Toushiro, might pass that record.

He had no real way of knowing the details of Shiba Kaien's accomplishments in training, but he always imagined them at the highest level possible, and strove to surpass that goal. It helped to have an equal against whom he might compete, even if only in his mind. And Shiba, he told himself, had once been a noble house; power ran in their veins, disgraced or not. Greatness was almost to be expected. If he could meet that challenge with only the dirt of Rukongai in his blood, then that was something he would allow himself to be proud of.

Hinamori had done it; she had climbed her way to the top of the academy by sheer will. He swore to himself that he would do no less. Otherwise he really _wouldn't _be worthy of any name other than Shiro-chan.

And he began to want to be worthy for more reasons than just Momo.

After all, he saw her less now than even when she'd been a busy student and he trapped in Rukongai. He found that he missed her now far more than he ever had, though with each passing day he felt less and less certain that he would even know what to say to her should she visit again. Now that she had a Captain to serve, a Captain she so clearly and painfully adored, time free of her duties seemed to have vanished.

Hitsugaya tried to be happy for her.

It was harder by far than anything they asked him to do at the academy.

Acknowledging, even just to himself, how much he missed her came as something of a new experience to him. His time alone at the academy was changing him in ways more profound than the honing of his power.

He had been distantly aware of the changes working on him, but had not truly given them much thought until a conversation one afternoon found him lying on his back in the sun, sword beside him, visiting with Jidanbou. The smooth paving stones at the Seireitei's edge were cool beneath him, and the dirt of Rukongai an arm's length away.

"Hitsugaya-kun looks like he's grown," Jidanbou said.

Jidanbou, at least, had stopped calling him Shiro-chan as soon as his friend had returned for his first visit wearing the blue hakama and striped kimono of a Shinigami student proper.

"You're imagining things, Jidanbou."

He would have liked very much to have claimed a gain in height equal to his gain in power, but sadly knew it was not the case.

"No. Your reiatsu makes you tall. Soon you'll be as tall as me maybe." Jidanbou grinned broadly, the tassel on that ridiculous hat of his flapping down into his face as he leaned over his supine companion.

Hitsugaya opened his eyes, safe from the sun in Jidanbou's shadow, and made a dismissive noise. "Size has nothing to do with power."

He was so used to saying the words – or at least thinking them – in response to every doubting look shot his way, that they slipped out before he could remind himself who he was speaking to, and how insulting the comment might seem considering their respective sizes. He had too few friends these days to indulge in casual rudeness anymore.

"Eh? Size matters!" Jidanbou boomed, leaning in so close that Hitsugaya winced at the echoes in his ears. "You think just anyone can lift this Gate should the need arise? No! But!" He leaned in even closer, grinning again. "Not everyone is smart enough to know the rules of the city and civilized behavior. Your reiatsu makes you tall, but it is your mind that will make you a great Shinigami!"

He reached out to tap Hitsugaya meaningfully on the head with one mammoth finger – and blinked in surprise when his fingertip hit stone. Hitsugaya pushed off Jidanbou's shoulder with one foot, sending his leap higher, and flipped down to the ground behind the giant's back.

"Or maybe good reflexes," he said blandly as he alighted, shaking out his sleeve and sliding his sword back into his obi.

Jidanbou just laughed.

But as he walked slowly back to the academy that afternoon, his brow furrowed in a thoughtful frown, Hitsugaya wondered how much his inner self might have begun to reflect the outer self he had been forced to wear since entering his training.

In the past, with Momo or anyone else, he had never felt the need to ponder what he would say or do next, and so never stopped to truly weigh the merits of his own choices. He just did what he did, what seemed right, what felt good. But now that every action and word had to be carefully scrutinized and measured before he put it out for others' criticism, it was becoming increasingly obvious that not everyone saw the world the way he did.

What was painfully simple to him was often insurmountably difficult for others to comprehend. Problems broke themselves down around him like pieces of ice shattering, chipping away and melting beneath his gaze to reveal the simple truths once hidden by their frozen facets. Everything could be seen and understood clearly, if only enough thought and effort was bent to it, yet sometimes it seemed he was the only one putting forth the effort required.

Could it really be just a matter of genius? Could one word explain the difference?

He often thought, especially after that afternoon with Jidanbou, that it would have been nice to sit down and have a conversation with Shiba Kaien. How often, he wanted to ask, did you find yourself becoming what they expected you to be? How often did you change to make _them _more comfortable? Did you ever find the _patience _to endure it all?

But by the time he was in a position to truly inquire after Shiba Kaien's possible opinion on such matters, he had long since given up on asking the questions.

Change, after all, came quickly to one with the willingness to embrace it.

* * *

The dreams started again a few weeks after he first touched Hyourinmaru's blade.

After half a year of intensive and advanced training and lectures, he knew enough to realize that the presence he had always felt surrounding him in those dreams was most likely his zanpakutou trying to make itself known to him. He told no one about the dreams, though it was clear that most of the instructors at the academy already believed him to have begun some sort of communication with his zanpakutou – that much was obvious from the way their eyes strayed to him whenever they lectured about the importance of forming a bond with your sword.

Only Oounabara-sensei spoke to him openly about it, but Hitsugaya knew instinctively that it was not advice he wished to follow.

"You have time, Hitsugaya-san. Sometimes the deepest understanding can only be forged through patience."

He had time to spare, they said, because he was still young. Still a child. But aging was slow in Soul Society, especially for those strong in spiritual power, and if he waited until he seemed old enough to others that they deemed it the proper _time,_ it could be years. Decades. He couldn't wait that long. The dragon _wouldn't _wait that long.

Yet despite all need, the dragon's name itself remained frustratingly elusive for many months.

In his dreams, he would walk through fields of grass turned cold and sharp by midnight chill, the stars flashing above him – far, and yet somehow close enough that he knew he could reach out and close his fingers around them if only he could summon the wings to fly – and all the while an icy wind whipped around him, pulling the sleeves of his kimono back, lashing the ends of his hair into his face.

And in the wind there was a voice, a howling, a roar that would build in intensity until it seemed to move inside his body and through his veins. It wanted _out._ It wanted him to _listen, _to _understand,_ but no matter how hard he tried, he could not make out a voice or words in that roar.

There was something missing. Something inside of himself. He couldn't help but view it as a failing in his training, in his ability - a weakness. And he hated weakness. Hated showing it, hated feeling it.

If his zanpakutou couldn't speak to him, what good was genius?

* * *

When Oounabara-sensei approached him, ten months into his training, and requested his presence for a special field exercise, Hitsugaya was certain there was more to the event than the instructors were admitting. All of the other students recruited for the exercise were in their final year of training, and for most that meant completing the curriculum at three or four years rather than the usual six. He was the only one among them to be in his final stages at less than a year, and Hitsugaya suspected that he had already earned graduation marks, and only the instructors' insecurities about his age stood in the way of his elevation to full Shinigami.

Better even than Shiba Kaien's record, and he was proud of it, though it wasn't a pride he would ever admit to feeling.

So when the "special field exercise" was mentioned, he seized the chance eagerly.

It would not be his first time engaging in combat, but until now he had only fought against dummy Hollows in controlled exercises. He had secretly hoped for a surprise attack on some soul burial training excursion, like the one Hinamori had once told him about, but all had gone smoothly; past lessons had been taken to heart, and now full ranked Shinigami served as guard and escort for every student exercise.

But this time, a group of ten would be sent into the wildest regions outside Rukongai's borders in pursuit of real Hollows, with only two Shinigami as guides. This would not be just an exercise, Hitsugaya was sure. This was a test, though the rules and the reward were uncertain. Fortunately, he had never been one to worry about rules. Rules would have stopped him entering the Seireitei, stopped him entering the academy, stopped him reaching his full potential. The most important thing about rules, he felt, was to know when it was necessary to break them, though this was not something he had decided to tell Jidanbou where the importance of leaving food on the floor once it had been stepped on was concerned.

And this test, he swore to himself, was a test he would not fail, no matter what the rules might prove to be.

The night before the exercise he sat awake, kneeling in a beam of moonlight under his window, his sword at his side waiting to be touched.

While its wielder waited for a visit that would not come.

He hadn't sent word to Hinamori. He knew it was irrational, and probably childish indeed, but part of him wanted to think that she paid enough attention to word of his training that she would already know how important the next day might prove for him. That she would know, would tear herself away from her duties to division and Captain, and that she would come to see him of her own free will. He didn't want to have to send her a message, to seek her out.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe he shouldn't expect her to come visit him anymore, ignoring all of his haughty protests as she once had. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he'd squandered all the visits he was to be allowed.

He knew he ought to be sleeping in preparation for the trial to come, but he doubted the dreams would give him much rest. And as long as he was awake, then there was still a hope that Momo might come, and that he'd be able to tell her, "After tomorrow, you won't be able to call me Shiro-chan anymore."

But she never came.

He knew it was irrational. He knew it was selfish. Childish.

And yet, there it was. The sense of abandonment.

After that night, his knees cold against the floor mats, he never spent a night waiting for Hinamori to visit again.

* * *

"This is one hell of a walk."

"You're telling me. Try doing it with these shorter legs."

"Try it with Hitsugaya's."

Ignoring overheard comments of the sort had long since become ingrained habit; not even a twitch in his frown betrayed the fact that he had heard. Though of course they were certain he had. He felt more inclined to forgive it, however, tonight of all nights, when there were more important things to be thinking about. And it helped that those with him tonight had at least some skill of their own on which to base boasting or jibes.

"Maybe you wouldn't have such a hard time with the walk, Tanizaki, if you didn't waste your breath with your attempts at ill-planned humor."

That was Kentaro Yumiko, of course, in all her sharp and uncompromising fervor. Hitsugaya couldn't say that he actually _liked _her, but he appreciated that she made no effort to hide her thoughts or feelings at any given moment; she was easy to read, and therefore easier to deal with. As far as she was concerned, so long as he was able to use a sword well enough to watch her back it didn't matter how young – or how short – he was.

When the ten selected students had been called together in preparation for the exercise, she had been the only one to merely nod as though satisfied on noting his presence.

The others had looked at him with varying expressions of uneasiness or judgment, but at least no one had spoken against his being there. They were the ten best students currently at the academy, and had seen enough of his training to know better. But several hours trekking through the night-dark forests, waiting for a Hollow to emerge from behind every tree, had unfortunately loosened most tongues.

It had not, however, loosened the tongue of their Shinigami escort.

Hitsugaya had spent the last hour watching Ise Nanao's back more closely than the forests around him. He was confident that he would sense a Hollow long before being able to see it, and since discovering that their guide on this exercise was not just a seated Shinigami but a Vice Captain, he had decided that the opportunity to watch and analyze her actions was not one to be missed.

Perhaps because of the uniqueness of his situation and the accelerated progress of his training, he had not had any opportunity to witness visits to the academy. Ever since Momo had babbled to him about seeing a Captain at the school and how amazing the man had been, Hitsugaya had half-expected to find Captains ghosting down the corridors on a regular basis. He knew better now of course, knew that Captains rarely visited the academy, and Vice Captains almost as infrequently. He had to admit he had been slightly disappointed at first. Now he thought he understood better. There came a point in the accumulation of skill when you saw the world through a different lens, and certain things became invisible. Shifting your focus back to something already left behind was pointless.

Surely it was pointless.

A Captain, Hitsugaya had decided, was someone you climbed to meet. You didn't expect them to come down to meet you.

Ise Nanao must have climbed. He of all people knew better than to judge by appearances. Slender, glasses carefully perched, hair carefully pulled back and folded upward, she seemed at first glance as unintimidating as she was clearly well-collected. He was certain the first glance was misleading. No one could have reached a Vice Captain's rank without the skills to merit it.

He was watching her gait, trying to see the first hints of shunpo technique in it, or the subconscious twisting of a wrist that might betray a favored hakuda style, but either she had learned to school her movements too well to let such hints slip, or her strength was not in the physical arts. He couldn't even see where she was carrying her zanpakutou. Perhaps her expertise was in kidou, for there was at least no denying her reiatsu, carefully controlled though it was.

"I wonder how the others are doing," Akagi Kohana said, peering into the trees to the west of the path as though she could see through the darkness and the miles separating them from the other students. They had been split into groups of five, each in pursuit of a different Hollow sighting rumor. The others had gone with the fourth seat of 2nd Division, and Hitsugaya doubted the split had been coincidental after noting that all five in the other group had strengths he considered much better suited to the Onmitsukidou than the Gotei 13. That fourth seat would undoubtedly be reporting directly to Captain Soi Fong.

Which begged the question, of course, of who Ise Nanao would be reporting to. What little he'd heard of Captain Kyouraku's reputation didn't paint the picture of a man who would be particularly interested in the accomplishments of the academy's newest students. It had been a very long time since Kyouraku Shunsui had been a student in those halls.

Tanizaki patted Akagi consolingly, his hand looking even larger than usual on her small shoulder. "I'm sure they're fine. Don't worry, my little flower."

Kohana just laughed, undoubtedly accustomed to enduring jokes at her name's expense.

For some reason, however, Tanizaki's comment seemed the last straw for their guide, and Vice Captain Ise turned an irritated look back on her charges.

"Though perhaps _you_ will not bothered if your mindless chatter warns Hollows to stay clear of our approach, _I _will regret the wasted night."

Tanizaki fell sheepishly silent under her gaze. Kohana blushed so deeply it was clear even in the shadows. Omura Yukio, trailing last in their small group, snickered quietly while smirking at Tanizaki's broad back, but when Vice Captain Ise's gaze fell on him, her glasses glinting faintly in the leaf-filtered moonlight, he too fell silent.

Hitsugaya fought the urge to sigh.

This was not how he had hoped the night would go.

He glanced up at the stars, hoping to gauge how much of the night had now crept by them; long nights of star-gazing in the gardens of the orphanage where so many of the children in Jyunrinan eventually gathered had taught him a familiarity with the night sky that would serve him all of his life. At best he now guessed that they had no more than three or four hours before dawn. The thought of passing the whole night without encountering a single Hollow was beginning to give him a headache.

"Hitsugaya."

He snapped his gaze away from the tree-tops and back to Ise Nanao. She had spoken quietly, and behind them Kohana was whispering something unintelligible to Tanizaki, so that he hoped no one else had heard the Vice Captain. Her face was angled back toward him just slightly, so that he could see her regarding him out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes, fukutaichou?"

"You are frustrated," she said simply. "It is affecting your reiatsu. Please try to rein it in."

"Yes," he said quickly, nodding. And of course the others had quieted enough by now to overhear every word, and he half-expected another weak joke at his expense as he frowned, trying to sense the unintended expansion in his reiatsu and to bring it under control. But to his surprise, no joke or comment came. An unusual, almost uncomfortable silence followed behind him, and he stubbornly refused even to glance back for a peek at their expressions.

At least another hour passed, during which the trees began to thin and his headache to grow worse. Omura Yukio trotted forward to the front of the group, his hand eagerly on his sword as always, to ask Vice Captain Ise how far out they would go before turning back, and if it was likely that a Hollow would emerge to attack them after the sun had risen. She rewarded him with a curt warning to fall back into rear-guard where he had been assigned, and then proceeded to deliver a low-voiced, clipped lecture on the basics of Hollow behavior which, she reminded them, they ought to have learned in their first year.

Hitsugaya barely listened, though normally he would carefully absorb every word of a lecture given in his presence. The pain in his temples was increasing, building to a throb that seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. The skin of his face itched. It grew worse until he was convinced that this was more than just his own anxiety, that something must be wrong in the air around them, and he was about to say something to the Vice Captain when she stopped abruptly in her tracks and raised a hand in silent warning.

After standing in perfect stillness for several moments, she lowered her hand and turned to them. "A Hollow has passed through here recently. It is still nearby. We will find positions in this area and prepare an ambush."

At last.

His headache seemed to ease at the very thought, and he nodded his understanding with grim eagerness.

Vice Captain Ise led them off the meager path they had been following and into the trees. Within a few minutes they came upon a small clearing. Ise crouched to one knee at the clearing's center, the fingertips of her pale hand pressed against the earth, and bowed her head, eyes closed in obvious concentration. Hitsugaya assumed she was stretching her spirit sense to be sure of the Hollow's taint, but now that he realized that what he had been sensing was a Hollow's nearness he wondered why she should need to concentrate at all. Wasn't it painfully obvious? The vague itching sensation which had prickled across his skin seemed to have crept into his throat, leaving behind a foul taste. He tried to breathe more shallowly, hoping that would lessen the impact of the spiritual scent.

When the Vice Captain stood again, apparently satisfied, she motioned them to retreat into the trees once more. Omura's grin was like a flash in the darkness, and with a tiny skip and then a blur of shunpo, he was up in the middle branches of a tree at the clearing's edge. The Vice Captain frowned up at him for a moment, then shook her head as though to let it pass, and gestured for the others to spread out. Tanizaki and Akagi moved off eastward, to take up positions in the lee of two of the larger tree trunks. The technique worked well for Akagi, who was small and slender enough to vanish into the tree's darker shadow, but Tanizaki would need a whole building to use that sort of camouflage effectively, even at night. There were disadvantages to greater size, Hitsugaya had always felt. Jidanbou was considered a giant among Shinigami for more than just his size, but there was no denying that in matters of stealth or speed he was sorely lacking.

Even so, he would have given a great deal to have Jidanbou at his side tonight instead of these relative strangers.

But now was not the time for sentimentality. He gave his head a small, quick shake to clear both inappropriate thoughts and the lingering tightness of his headache. He picked a tree whose bark was smooth enough not to catch on his clothes, but with branches spaced adequately to allow easy climbing, and set his back against it. He faced westward, with the clearing in the periphery of his vision rather than directly before him. Spiritual sense was more effective than sight in hunting Hollows, or so they had been taught, but he didn't want to take the chance that this might be a Hollow with better control over its reiatsu than most, and if it sensed them before they sensed it then the creature might try to approach them by stealth. Which meant it would likely approach the clearing by keeping to the cover of the surrounding trees, as they had.

Vice Captain Ise moved in perfect silence through the tree boles, inspecting their positions and the area. She passed by Kentaro Yumiko – who had folded her tall and narrow frame into a crouch between two lichen-covered boulders – without a word but also without a frown. When she came to Hitsugaya, she paused briefly, turned to look in the direction he had positioned himself to face, and nodded.

He knew he ought to feel pleased by her silent approval, but it seemed such an obvious choice to have made that he could hardly be proud of having made it. His headache was also growing worse again.

He folded his arms, and his elbow and forearm bumped against the tsuka rising from his obi. That happened all the time. It was no good. He would have to do something about it sooner or later.

For now, he merely shifted position just enough for the end of his saya to extend around the side of the trunk behind him, allowing him to keep his back in contact with the tree, and adjusted the fold of his arms to rest more comfortably over his sword.

His sword. His sword. His unnamed sword.

_What am I doing wrong?_ he wanted to ask it. _What words should I use to speak to you so that you'll answer? _

A chill breeze picked up, winding its way through the trees in a soft rustle of leaves. These hours before dawn were always coldest, but the cold had never bothered him. He remembered sitting up late some nights with Momo, talking or merely watching the moon sail by, and she would shiver, sitting stubbornly beside him, enduring the cold, until he would order her testily to go fetch herself a blanket, or brought one for her himself. But even shivering till her teeth chattered, she never moved until he did.

Not until she moved away completely, changing both of their lives forever.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the cool breeze ease the tingling warmth on his skin. He drew a deep, slow breath, forcing himself not to fight the taste of the Hollow's taint, but rather to take it in, to familiarize himself with it. Then he opened his eyes, let his gaze unfocus just enough to make sense of the shadows in the trees around him, and waited. Cleared his mind.

Somewhere out there, a Hollow was stalking the night. And somewhere inside of him, his zanpakutou was waiting for him to call out its name.

No one knew what form their zanpakutou might take - that was the first thing they told you in training. Every zanpakutou was different, and for every zanpakutou there was a different theory as to _why _the swords – blade and manifestation both – took the forms they did. Some argued the zanpakutou's form reflected the inner characteristics of their wielders. Some argued the reverse, that the Shinigami's personality was unknowingly shaped over the course of their lives by the zanpakutou that would eventually become their destiny. Some argued a synthesis of the two, and still others argued that zanpakutou and wielder could be at total odds with one another, that their true destiny was merely to find a truce, to make a pact that would allow them to fight a common enemy together.

At first, Hitsugaya had been interested in all the arguments, had studied them, had even spent days in the libraries reading every scroll on the subject he could get his hands on. But now, he no longer cared which theory might be most true. He merely wanted the dreams to end.

_Tonight is the night_, he thought to himself, and willed the thought to travel inward, to reach the spirit within his sword. If he could not speak to it in dreams, then he would simply have to find a way to speak to it in waking. _If I cannot hear you tonight, with a Hollow before us, then I will never hear you. _Never mind that it took most Shinigami years to learn their zanpakutou's name, that many even in the Gotei 13 who were not seated officers never learned to call on the full extent of their sword's true power. A Shinigami could compensate for that, in a battle against Hollows, by excelling in other applications of their training. But it would never be enough, if one wished to be more than a rank and file Shinigami.

And he wanted more. He _needed _more.

And so.

_I want to know your name. I know you want to tell me. Help me hear you. _

The breeze was picking up now, whistling through branch and leaf, offering perfect cover of sound for an enemy to approach unheard. Hitsugaya kept his gaze soft, watching the shadows and not the trees.

As far as he knew, none of the others here tonight – excepting the Vice Captain, of course – had yet managed to fully awaken their swords either. Though they must all be close to doing so, or they would not have been sent on this mission. This was a test. He had known that from the beginning. Perhaps it was merely a test meant to see if they could survive a true Hollow, and perform well in the doing, but he decided at that moment – no, he had decided the moment they told him about the exercise – that the true test, _his _test, would be decided by the waking of his sword. In that test, there was only one judge.

_If I must prove my worth to you, then bear witness this night, and reward what you see. _

The breeze grew even more chill; it crept through his hair like cold fingers trailing across his scalp. The back of his neck tingled.

_I will show you who I am. _

But suddenly he was struck by the absurdity of that thought. Had he ever been other than he was? Had he ever pretended to be otherwise, for anyone's sake? Would someone watching him, especially over the last year as he trained, have doubted his determination or his ability? No. No, surely they couldn't.

But what, he wondered now, would it all have looked like from within, rather than without? What had he seen, looking out from his _own_ eyes? What sort of mirror had he offered himself? Or the spirit within his sword?

The wind was blowing clouds in overhead with astonishing speed. The moon, covered and uncovered by white wisps, was casting moving shadows all through the trees. Catching sight of a body's movement in them now would be almost impossible.

_Is that where I've failed? Is it really that simple? _

The pain in his temples was intense now. His breath was coming to him in shortening gasps, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the Hollow's taint twisting his senses or because of the pressure building in his chest, struggling for release.

_Then forgive me. I will _tell_ you who I am. _

To give his zanpakutou eyes with which to see him, he would have to see himself.

_I am Hitsugaya Toushiro. _

The pressure in his chest seemed to move, like coils unwinding. The tree behind him seemed to vibrate with the tossing of its branches in the wind.

_I am not a genius. I am not Shinigami. _

Not in his heart. Not yet. Not in any way that it might matter to the presence inside of him, listening now, palpably listening.

_I am not alone. _

No, he wasn't. He realized now that he never had been. Not before Momo, not after her, not in the street, not in the orphanage, not wandering the academy halls. Not ever, no matter how isolated he might have allowed himself to feel. _Trained_ himself to feel.

_I am not alone, because I am waiting for you. _

The wind bit through the fabric of his clothing to get at his skin. Cold, and welcome. Familiar. The clouds above were roiling.

_I am waiting for you to give me wings. _

A monstrous clap of thunder broke the night, and the clouds split as though a blade of moonlight cleaved through them, opening a sudden path to the stars.

Hitsugaya looked up, tasting snow on the breath he sucked into his lungs in wonder, and watched the dragon descend.

**_I can only give you wings, _**it said, and its voice filled the night like the roar of suddenly pounding rain, **_if first you teach me how to fly. _**

There was another clap of thunder, and something struck him on the shoulder.

"Hitsugaya!"

The shape in the sky vanished, and the echo of fading thunder in his ears was suddenly overwhelmed by the sound of battle cries, and a roar that could never be mistaken for a dragon's. This roar was monstrous, and the taste of the air went from frozen clean to foul so quickly that he gagged.

Akagi Kohana stood before him, her sword drawn, her eyes wide, her face pale in the moonlight.

"What is wrong with you?" she cried. "It's here! They need our help!"

Her words spurred him into movement before his thoughts could catch up, still lost in the vision so quickly taken from him, the communion that had so blinded his senses. He needed to get it back! But there was no time now to stand here striving to recapture it.

The wind blew sharp in his face now as he moved – two flash steps – and he was in the clearing, facing a creature as tall as the trees, its body black, its underbelly white like an insect's, a green saliva dripping from the fangs of a mask that even now was turning on Omura Yukio and his drawn sword.

Omura, nimble as ever, leapt back, touched one foot on a rock, and launched himself into the air, his sword high. The Hollow anticipated his attack, and a long thick tail whipped around to slam into Omura's side, sending him flying across the clearing. He tried to twist in midair, probably hoping to impact the tree toward which he was hurtling with his feet and push off again, but could not make the turn fast enough. His body struck the tree trunk with a dull cracking of bone, and he fell limp to the ground.

With a roar, Tanizaki barreled into the Hollow's flank, plunging his sword in deep. The Hollow responded with a roar of its own, and twisted its head around almost as fluidly as it had moved its tail. White teeth sunk into Tanizaki's shoulder, barely missing his head.

Yumiko's voice was raised now in a kidou chant, and Kohana moved in just as the other woman finished the incantation.

"Hadou Thirty-One! Shakkahou!"

Red flame shot across the clearing, leaving a phantom line of light hanging briefly in the air, and in the shadow it cast Kohana moved, lightning quick, to slash at the Hollow's mask in passing. Her zanpakutou cut a perfect line across it, but too shallow. Fine cracks began to spread over the Hollow's mask as it threw back its head in a howl of frustration – but it was still very much intact.

Vice Captain Ise was nowhere in sight.

But then of course, this was a test.

And the wind was still blowing.

Hitsugaya froze, his sword halfway drawn from the saya, and the world seemed to go equally still around him. Everything but the wind.

The wind was still blowing. It was real. It had not been a part of his vision.

He looked up, every movement painfully slow as though it were breaking through a casing of ice. The clouds above were twisting, coiling, begging to be given shape.

Waiting to be taught how to fly.

**_To summon the dragon without – _**

Hitsugaya drew his sword fully. It caught a shaft of moonlight breaking briefly through the moving clouds, and gleamed like a sliver of mirroring ice.

**_You must first acknowledge the dragon within. _**

He lifted his sword to the side, edge outward, blade parallel to the earth. Giving it room to sing.

**_You are the dragon. Be it without doubt. In the face of others' fear, in the face of destiny. Know what you are. Only then can we meet as equals. As kin. Only then can you soar – _**

"Soar," he said calmly, confident now, and his words turned to mist in the icy air.

**_– with me – _**

" – in the frozen sky."

He had never before seen his own reiatsu made manifest, but now it shone, brighter than the moonlight, bluer than the brightest of stars, and it filled the entire clearing with its light.

The sword in his hand burned with cold. Everything around him seemed still to be moving in slow motion, but he could see them all turning toward him now – Tanizaki, clutching his wounded shoulder; Akagi, her sword drooping; Yumiko, her hands lifting for another kidou incantation.

And the Hollow. A yellow light kindled in its eyes as it ignored all the rest now as insignificant.

Hitsugaya raised his head to meet the Hollow's gaze, pulled in a deep breath through his clenched teeth, and shouted the name that he had always known –

"_Hyourinmaru!_"

The dragon came, and this time there was no mistaking it for a vision. He felt the air surrounding him turn liquid, sliding over his skin like cold silk; it sheened the blade of his sword and flowed on, lashing out into a serpentine shape that grew, and grew, and grew as he moved the tip over his head and brought his other hand to the hilt. The dragon swirled around him, dripping water that turned to ice in mid-motion. Shards of it burst all around him like tiny stars.

He knew in that moment, with Hyourinmaru's roar of triumph moving through him, that the Hollow didn't stand a chance. It was nothing to the power of this storm.

Adding his voice to the dragon's, Hitsugaya bent his knees, gathered his power, and leapt into the sky.

He brought the blade around for a swing, and was not surprised - sudden and new though it was - to see the movement trailed by a chain of links shimmering almost white with frost. A crescent moon dangled at the chain's end, reflecting the light of the moon above, now embroiled in gathering storm clouds.

Air offered him purchase in a way it had never done before, even in his most intensive training. His feet pushed off it like bounds up a set of invisible stairs, propelled higher every time by swelling spirit force, and though the Hollow reared up, stretching its body to full height, it could not get higher than the dragon, could not match a dragon's speed.

_Might as well try to catch the wind,_ Hitsugaya thought, and he would have smiled if his battle cry would have allowed it. His breath was vapor in the frozen air, but the cold only served to invigorate him. He was in his element. Truly and totally at last.

From his flight in the sky, staring down at his enemy, he brought his sword around in an arc and the dragon flew toward its target, red eyes blazing. The Hollow lashed out again with its tail, and where it hit, shards of ice broke off and filled the air. But the dragon moved on, undeterred, recomposing its form as it flew, liquid turning to ice in minute fractions of time. It struck the Hollow directly in the mask and pushed on, lifting the monster's huge body entirely from the ground. Trapped in frozen jaws, the Hollow writhed but could not break free, and the dragon ploughed it straight into the forest, snapping tree trunks like twigs.

Hitsugaya fell back toward the earth, pulling the dragon back with another swing of his sword. It returned, swirling around him, gathering cold and speed.

The Hollow shrieked as it staggered back to all four of its feet, a pair of extra claws scrabbling at the broken trees to help it stand. The mask was cracked now in many places; deep furrows of shadow criss-crossing each other over the blood-red markings. Several of the teeth were missing. The saliva dripping from its jaws had been frozen into icicles like panting tongues. Enraged and hateful to the last, the Hollow lurched forward once again.

Hitsugaya gave it a moment to pick up speed, to put the force into its charge that would prove its own destruction. Then he whipped Hyourinmaru around again, this time sending the dragon straight up toward the sky; the speed of its passage left a curtain of water in its wake, and through it he could see the Hollow bearing down on him. At the final snap-stop of his upward swing, his sword held high above him, the chain snapped forward. It passed through the curtain, and water sheathed it like a skin – turned instantly to ice, further sharpening the crescent blade's edge. When the crescent's point hit the mask, the Hollow's motion provided all the strength needed. White-sheened metal passed through the mask as though through mist, and the cracks exploded open at last. The mask fell apart in many pieces as the chain whipped back to Hitsugaya's side.

The Hollow's dying cry lingered in the air as its body dissolved, and for a moment Hitsugaya wished that it would recompose itself as his dragon had done, or that it would prove to have friends lurking in the forest that would swarm out now and attack.

He did not want to fold his newfound wings so soon.

Another flick of his sword tip brought the dragon coiling around him again, iridescent and loud with the voice of cracking ice.

Vaguely, through the haze of freezing air and the glow of his own reiatsu, he could see his fellow Shinigami picking themselves up off the floor, staring at him with mouths open.

He would have to release the dragon. Silence the roar. Shut it up inside of him again. He could see his future with sudden clarity, and knew exactly what would be required of him from this point on. For even those who had enough power of their own to know no fear of dragons would expect other things.

"I'm sorry, Hyourinmaru," he said softly. "We're both going to have to learn to keep the dragon quiet, sometimes."

**_Perhaps. _**

The voice came clearly now from above him, not from within, and he looked up – to see a serpentine shape there, far greater than the one summoned into being from cold and spirit force swirling around him.

Hyourinmaru rode the sky, invisible to all eyes save his, and ice was nothing to the sheen of his scales. The stars shone through him like white fires magnified through water.

**_But the dragon cannot lie. It will always be what it is, and those with eyes to see will always know him. Just as in time, you and I will come to know each other. _**

"Yes."

**_Soon we shall fly again? _**

This time he did smile; a tiny turn of his lips, a slow smoothing of his brow. "Soon. I promise."

**_Good. _**

Releasing his breath slowly, watching it mist before him, he began to dampen his reiatsu. The ice dragon dissolved around him in bursts, hissing swiftly into vapor, and within moments nothing remained. The sword burned cold in his grip, but no hint of water or ice sheened its metal.

"To – Toushiro!"

Hitsugaya ignored Kohana's awestruck voice. He didn't want to have to struggle to find the words to speak with her right now.

He looked up again, but Hyourinmaru was gone. Only the night sky, still tossed with darkening clouds, remained.

A presence entered the clearing behind him, and he recognized Vice Captain Ise's reiatsu immediately. It was keener now, strong and sharp, but not unpleasant in his senses. Either she had been keeping it deeply in check all night prior to this moment, or his ability to perceive it had multiplied since Hyourinmaru's waking. Perhaps both.

"Hitsugaya Toushiro," she said, her voice steady and cool. "Well done."

He just nodded, face turned still to the sky. There was a clap of thunder – a true one this time – and the rain began to fall. It streaked down his face, caught in his eyelashes, plastered unruly hair to his temples. And this too was his, he knew.

Maybe dragons flew best on the wings of storms.

* * *

Two days later, he was handed a scroll declaring him a graduate of the Shinigami

Central Spirit Technique Institute, and a representative of the 7th Division of the Gotei 13 met him at the academy gates.

"I am Watari Kazuo, fourth seat to Komamura-taichou. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"Hitsugaya Toushiro," he said, returning the taller man's bow, trying to keep his face as expressionless as possible. No pride, no relief. No disappointment. After all, he had to go where there were openings, not where friends might be waiting. "The honor is mine."

"We've heard a great deal about you, Hitsugaya."

"Yes," he said, fighting the urge to sigh, and unaware that he was taking the first step on a path that would define the way others viewed him for many years to come – cool, unapologetic, honest as a reflection in ice. "I'm sure you have. I will do my best to be true to it."

And deep inside his chest, the dragon turned, coiled, settled in to wait – comfortable and content at last.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Like most Bleach fans, I'm sure I've watched at least three different fansub versions of every episode, and read at least two versions of every scanlated manga chapter. As a result, my Bleach vocabulary is a mish-mash of different translated interpretations. I took the terms that felt most natural to me, or that seemed the most lyrically appealing, and I hope they all made some sense._

_Also, though obviously I made up every detail of this, and undoubtedly Kubo Tite-sensei will make all of it null and void by someday providing us with the true details of Hitsugaya's past (or we have to hope he will!), at least the bit about Hitsugaya living in Jyunrinan, being friends with Jidanbou, and teaching him the city rules is supposedly straight from Kubo Tite's mouth, as recorded in an interview in 2004 issue 42 of Shonen Jump. Just that little tidbit of information really brought a lot of the inner workings of Hitsugaya's mind to life for me. Anyone who could be patient friends with Jidanbou at such a young age has got lots of interesting cogs turning under that cool Captain exterior._

_Part Two will come… eventually. I'm a VERY slow writer, but I'm enjoying this, so hopefully it won't be more than, oh, a month? Alas. But Part Two of three will be titled: In The Eye of the Storm. It's very likely, however, that a companion piece to this chapter, seeing this last battle from a different point of view, will come along before Part Two. And Matsumoto is making noises like she wants a story of her own to mirror this one, so I don't know… persistent, isn't she?_


	2. Part Two: Patterns in the Rain

_Author's Notes: Well, I had thought this story would only be three chapters, but it has grown in the telling, and now looks like it will be five. Five looong chapters, as per my norm. I know the long read might not be to everyone's taste, but each segment of the story has a definite flow, with a momentum and specific goal from each segment's beginning to its end, and I want to preserve that integrity regardless of length. Blame Hitsugaya. He's too serious about everything to be anything less than a serious pain in the ass when it comes to getting the details of this monster story right, and details too often mean long, and long, and long again. The positive side is that obsession has me writing much, MUCH faster than I usually write, so hopefully the next chapter will be done in a few weeks. Assuming that I don't have to spend another week agonizing over apparent timeline discrepancies in the manga, and wondering just how many years I need to insert in key places. Damn the mysteries of Soul Society aging and training…_

_Also, for those interested in stepping briefly out of the Hitsugaya limelight, my story "Facets" deals with the viewpoints of other characters as they watch Hitsugaya's developing career, and I've decided that that's where I'm going to put the Matsumoto viewpoint pieces to accompany this one. The thought of doing a full Matsumoto piece threatened to become as large a project as this one, and I'm too scared to take it on. So shorter pieces in "Facets" will have to suffice. She'll probably forgive me as long as I make sure to put a lot of drinking in her scenes…_

**FROZEN SKY**

Part Two: Patterns in the Rain

Hitsugaya had had many years to form expectations – wrong though most of them were ultimately proved – about life in the academy. Hinamori's visits during her own studies had provided more than enough detail on which to build speculation, and the years after she had graduated, and stopped coming to visit, had allowed him plenty of time to let speculation ripen.

He'd had no such time to truly build expectations about life _after_ the academy, however, and so found himself unprepared for many aspects of life as a full Shinigami in the Gotei 13.

To start with, and most persistently obvious, there was the work itself.

It was universally understood that seated officers in the Gotei 13 were entrusted with the most dangerous of missions. Hunting particularly deadly Hollows. Investigating sensitive rumors. Protecting lower squad members on their training exercises. And of course, taking every opportunity to further their own training. All of this, Hitsugaya had been prepared for.

He had not been prepared for the paperwork or the meetings or the mundane patrol assignments that not even seated officers could entirely avoid.

He had been happy enough with his fifth seat position. High enough, he felt, to reflect his skill, and low enough to give him room to grow. What he hadn't realized until the first day he entered the small office area he now shared with the third, fourth, and sixth seat officers, was that fifth seat was also a perfectly placed _middle _rank, and to the middle flowed all things too tedious for higher officers to handle, but too important to be ignored or entrusted to the lower ranks.

Reports on care of the jigoku-chou, scrawled by the hands of anxious rookie Shinigami who spent more time holding butterfly nets than their swords. Reports from division members assigned to the mortal world on gigai or equipment difficulties. Reports on the damages done to the division facilities by drunk members coming back in from a night out, by members over-excited in their kidou practice, by members who had managed to antagonize other divisions enough to cause some sort of incursion, or graffiti, or any other number of petty diversions restless Shinigami seemed so much to enjoy.

All tedious reports, it seemed, passed over the fifth seat's desk, to be sorted, compiled, and copied over in a more orderly fashion for delivery to the Vice Captain, who would then pass on anything that required the Captain's notation.

The fourth and third seats compiled the reports regarding Hollow activity in Soul Society, the transfer of souls into and out of Rukongai after soul burial by members of the 7th, and the training reports on the division's members.

It did not take Hitsugaya long to learn to envy the nature of their workload.

Nor did it take him long to establish a reputation for efficiency in regards to his own.

"You mean you're already done?" Watari Kazuo had asked him, blinking in evident surprise, as he entered the workroom on Hitsugaya's third day in the division.

"Yes," he said, continuing to hold the stack of paperwork – neatly separated and bound by subject matter – out for the fourth seat's inspection.

Watari took it, shifting each individual section aside to the see the bundle beneath, his eyes scanning the neat writing and the signature at the bottom of each cover page.

Hitsugaya waited in silence for him to finish, struggling with himself not to cross his arms in the presence of his superior. In only the three days since his acceptance to 7th Division he had developed a genuine respect for fourth seat Watari Kazuo. The man was somber or friendly by turns, but always calm, and also the only person Hitsugaya had not yet caught watching their newest officer out of the corner of their eyes when they thought he wasn't looking.

"This is… very thorough," Watari said finally. "Well done. Not many have the patience for this sort of work. There was quite a back load of it too, if I recall."

"Yes," he said. He wasn't about to deny it. His desk had a been a total mess. The fifth seat had clearly been vacant for too long in this division. He had stayed up the whole night finishing the backlog, and wasn't about to play modest.

Watari smiled faintly. "I will see that it gets delivered to the Vice Captain. Thank you."

And as usual, word of his accomplishments tended to spread. After that day, though he could never prove it, he suspected that work which was not strictly meant for him ended up on his desk anyway, snuck there by less diligent officers who hoped he wouldn't feel secure enough in his position yet to make an issue of it.

He worked every piece of parchment that crossed his desk without a word of complaint. No one could ever say they overheard him reporting to his superiors when others skived off their work. It just so happened that those who didn't do their own paperwork usually got caught in the Vice Captain's sorting process, and if that had something to do with the fifth seat's efficient method of organizing paperwork by subject matter so that the presence of an inappropriate officer signature – or lack of the appropriate one – was easily and instantly noted, well that was a matter for the fifth seat and the Vice Captain to worry about.

He had no love for paperwork, or conducting his monthly inspection of the hellmoth cages, or approving the ninth seat's weekly cleaning-duties roster, but they were such simple tasks that he couldn't forgive himself for doing anything less than a perfect job on them. If anyone wanted grounds on which to complain about him, it would not be for something trivial.

And there were complaints, of course. Some things hadn't changed from the academy. He had hoped that fifth seat would be a low enough position to avoid incurring the ire of envious gossips, but it seemed that whispers and rumors were something he would never be able to fully avoid.

Most disturbing of the whispers that plagued his early weeks in the 7th were those about the test against the Hollow during which he had first released his zanpakutou, because they were unerringly accurate. It wasn't until his first seated officers meeting a month after his arrival, when he realized that Kentaro Yumiko had also been assigned to his division in the tenth seat, that he understood how the whispers had come about. He hadn't been able to stop himself from giving her a rather frosty look across the room as the meeting progressed, but he regretted it a bit afterwards, when she caught up with him in the garden to apologize.

"They were asking about you, so I told them the truth," she said, her lean face clouded by sincere regret. "I told them that you were top of the class, and that you were the only person even in the advanced group to summon your zanpakutou in our final exercise. They asked about your zanpakutou, so I told them what we all saw. I didn't think they'd be so infantile as to twist the information about for their rumor mongering. I apologize," she said, bowing deeply, subordinate to superior.

Hitsugaya shrugged it off; hearing apologies made him as uncomfortable as giving them. But he appreciated her continued lack of pretense with him, and was just glad that it was Yumiko who had ended up in 7th with him rather than, say, Tanizaki Michio, who had quite appropriately been sent to the 11th where, if rumor could be believed, he had been forced to fight the ninth seat in order to qualify for the tenth, landing them both in 4th Division's medical facilities.

Omura Yukio, after his own stay in the medical ward, had been sent back to the academy for a further year of training, and would have to take the standard entrance exam just like anyone else if he wanted to get into the Gotei 13 now.

Akagi Kohana had been given the ninth seat in 5th Division, and Hitsugaya was grateful for this posting as well, because it meant that word of his success had reached Hinamori all the faster.

She had come to see him on his second morning in the 7th, before he'd even learned how to navigate the division's compound. A lower ranked division member came to inform him that he had a guest, and he had been forced to ask that they guide him to the front gate. But all embarrassment vanished when he stepped into the main courtyard and saw that his hopes had proved true, and it really was Hinamori waiting for him.

She had run across the courtyard to meet him, and even though he stood stiff and still as she threw her arms around him – his guide was still watching, after all – he couldn't stop the warmth from spreading through his chest.

"Oh, Shiro-chan, I'm so proud of you!"

"Hinamori," he said, his tone properly exasperated though he had to work hard at keeping his expression stern, "you can _not _call me that anymore. I'm a seated officer, just like you."

"Oh, but I'm a third seat now, you know," she smiled, her cheeks rosy with happiness, and poked him lightly in the chest with her finger. "Still higher than you. But I guess I'll have to start calling you Hitsugaya-_kun _now, at least."

"At least."

"So serious! Smile, Toushiro! You've made it here after only one year! Everyone is talking about it. I wish I could have seen your zanpakutou's release! Akagi says it was really amazing."

"Maybe she should have spent more time fighting instead of watching me."

"Ah, Hitsugaya-kun, what a mean thing to say!"

But she kept smiling. When she threw her arms around him again for another quick hug, he allowed himself a tiny sigh, and wondered if she still knew him well enough to recognize it for a happy sound. It had been so many years since she had hugged him like this.

It wasn't the same anymore.

But he was glad of it nonetheless.

* * *

The duties of a seated officer in the Gotei 13 kept him busy enough, especially in the first months as he accustomed himself to new responsibilities, and new discoveries around almost every corner of the Seireitei. But Hitsugaya was pleased to learn that time for training was not only permitted, it was encouraged for seated officers. Though a great deal of that time involved supervising the training of lower ranked members, at least one full day of every week was granted to seated officers for their private practice. They were expected to keep their skills sharp, and most of them had an eye on their own advancement.

Hitsugaya had to admit that he was no exception to that rule.

At first, he had been pleased enough to have left the academy in record time. From all that he had been able to gather, he was the youngest Shinigami to have achieved seated officer status in the history of Soul Society. Or at least, in the history that was available for an eager young Shinigami to study. At first, that had seemed more than enough.

And if "Hitsugaya-kun" was the best he could get out of it, that was at least a good first step.

But it did not take him long to realize that there was more to be had. More within his grasp.

The dragon could soar to far greater heights than this.

It was not ambition. Not truly. He didn't want to become stronger just for the sake of strength, and least of all for any sense of recognition. He simply couldn't bear the thought of leaving the power within him untapped. To do so would have been like denying himself food, ignoring hunger. That was not something he would ever have to do again where eating was concerned, and he had no desire to endure it in other matters either. While there was still progress to made, skill to be refined, depths within to explore, then he would train, and search, and advance. And if that meant rising in ranks among Shinigami, then that was what it meant. Actions had consequences, and consequences had to be acknowledged and accepted before the first step on any path was taken.

Perhaps it was a simplistic view. He would have admitted that possibility, had anyone confronted him on it.

But a dragon's needs were simple, in the end.

All it needed, all it truly needed, was space in which to soar. And until that need was met, Hitsugaya was willing to suborn his own needs to the dragon's. After all, he wasn't even sure what his own needs really were. Whenever he allowed himself to think on that question, life lost its sharp clarity and became a mess of barely acknowledged emotions, regrets, desires, far too chaotic to sort. Hyourinmaru's needs, at least, were easy to understand, and too tempting not to share.

So while at first the fifth seat of any division had seemed a perfectly comfortable place to be, in less than a year Hitsugaya had already decided that advancement was inevitable. It was just a matter of how much time he wanted to take in getting there. And that, of course, was a much more complicated question, because it meant finally confronting some uncomfortable truths.

Some were simple, though the frustration they engendered ran deep.

His age would always prove a barrier to be overcome. Double proofs were required for every accomplishment or claim, and every such trial found him shorter on patience, which did not win him many friends. Even those who did not question his natural skill in combat often faltered when it came to his work in other areas. He would always receive more askance looks on entering the division archives than on entering the battlefield, and it was hard to decide which irritated him more.

So he could choose to pursue his training, and the advancement it might mean, as quickly as natural skill allowed, and fight a double battle for it every step of the way. Or he could wait, give himself time to develop his gifts in leisurely exploration, and give others time to accept him. The dragon could be patient if it had to be, but Hitsugaya had never liked going against his instincts.

That, however, frustrating choice though it might be, was an easier truth to confront than… others.

He would never, he understood now, be Hinamori's comrade in arms.

He had long ago given up the idea of recapturing any element of their childhood friendship; he had realized and accepted that loss a few years after Hinamori's graduation from the academy, when it became clear that it wasn't just a matter of work that had put an end to her visits, but a shift in her heart.

Yet all along, bitterly though he might have resented it at times, there had always been the hope deep in his own heart that becoming Shinigami would mean that he could begin a new friendship with her, one between equals, based on an understanding of each other's abilities, and at least informed, if no longer shaped, by their lost childhood years.

It was clear to him now that this could never be.

He told himself that it was because they had been too long apart. He told himself that it was because her heart and loyalty were given wholly to her Captain, and that was perhaps to be understood, maybe even in some ways to be admired.

But what he never spoke aloud to anyone, not even in the dream-like frozen landscapes where he sometimes met Hyourinmaru and unloaded his heavier thoughts, was his new understanding of the gap between them.

He would never be able to stand beside Hinamori as a comrade in arms, because his instinct was a dragon's, his power still growing, and Hinamori's skill had always been shaped by a different sort of strength, one which flowered best in the shade that others cast. Her ambitions had always been given over to the ambitions of others, to the desire to share rather than to stand alone. And maybe that was why she had been so quick to befriend a younger, coolly independent and sharp-tongued Toushiro. She had called him Shiro-chan, and laughed at his coldness, and let her strength flow outwards, always outwards, a warmth to thaw all frost. Hinamori shone brightest in the shadow of those she loved.

But as his awareness of his own power grew, Hitsugaya realized that he didn't want to be the one casting the shadow anymore. And casting a shadow would be inevitable. He disliked false modesty as much as he disliked bragging, and he could already see, though Hinamori was in 5th Division's third seat and destined to rise higher, that he himself was likely to rise higher still, given time.

And Momo had already chosen the one in whose shadow she wished to stand.

Hitsugaya spent as much time, in his first months as a member of the Gotei 13, pursuing stories of Aizen's accomplishments as he did those of Komamura's. Learning about his own Captain was merely to be expected, and he viewed it as another part of his duties.

Learning about Aizen was the only way he could understand the person Hinamori had become.

She did not come to visit him often, nor did he have the time to seek her out. Months would pass without even a glimpse of her, and then perhaps he would see her in passing as she made her way through Seireitei's inner roads in pursuit of some errand, he in pursuit of his, and she would pause just long enough to wave, her voice echoing brightly across any distance, "Hitsugaya-kun! You look busy! So am I! Tomorrow I'll bring you lunch, yes?" But she rarely did. He did not expect her to.

A smile and the occasional wave, he had decided, was enough.

He had duties and subordinates now to preoccupy him, and that too, he had decided, was enough.

That, and Hyourinmaru.

* * *

He learned very quickly not to use his shikai release in training. Or at least, not in training with other Shinigami.

At first he thought that it was his inability to properly control Hyourinmaru that made the dragon lash out with such vigor. The first time he had summoned shikai in the division's training yard, half the field had been flooded and coated over in ice, and three people had been sent to 4th Division.

Over time, however, he came to fully understand the strength of his zanpakutou. Learning proper control over it was undoubtedly an issue, and one requiring much of his attention, but against some opponents the matter of fine control was moot. It benefited no one for him to release Hyourinmaru in training practice with unseated Shinigami.

He decided to view this imposed limitation as a positive aspect of his training. It was his responsibility to oversee the practice and missions of the middle-ranked squads in the division, and in that capacity he could not avoid engaging them in the occasional training exercise. Without releasing his zanpakutou, this meant relying entirely on perfecting sword techniques, on hakuda, on shunpo. Even against unseated Shinigami, it was a chance to find the weaknesses in his own skills.

Hakuda, he quickly realized, was not his strongest point. Fast movement techniques came naturally enough, and his kidou met all seated officer standards, but sword was undeniably his greatest gift. And if the Shinigami under his supervision learned that the hard way, it would have to be a learning experience for them. He told them so. It earned him many groans in response, which he steadfastly ignored. And for the most part, he forgave them their mutters of frustration with his uncompromising demands in their training regimen, because he realized that he benefited as much from the opportunity to refine his technique on them as they did in learning from his example.

They never came to love him, he knew. They referred to him as the "little sensei" whenever they thought he couldn't hear them, and undoubtedly came in for much teasing by other squad members. Hitsugaya never lost any sleep over it. But he was quietly proud, in spite of himself, to note that several years later nearly every member of his assigned squads had been picked out by the Vice Captain for promotion.

True advancements in his own training were almost entirely the product of solitary work. He often used his free time to leave the Seireitei altogether, choosing deserted areas outside of Rukongai to let Hyourinmaru fly. It was a time of discovery, and he would always look back on it fondly.

Once, on a particularly hot day, he had called the dragon out to summon rain over a group of elderly women toiling in parched fields. They had been frightened of him at first, and he regretted making his presence so ostentatiously known. This wasn't Jyunrinan, where someone might remember him. And even there he would have hesitated to make a scene. But they had been all alone, and they had seemed so hot…

He hadn't been able to help himself when another solitary training session found him in the same area several months later; he passed by the same field, wondering if the old women would still be working there, though this time he was careful to put his training to use in a stealthy approach. But old women had a preternatural ability to sense delinquent behavior, as he had learned too well at the hands of the orphanage's Grandmother, and as though they could sense his nearby presence the women began to speak of the white-haired boy who had called forth the rain once, on a day as hot as this one.

"To think he was a Shinigami! He looked no older than my grandson did, last time I saw him."

"Just goes to show that not all Shinigami are so haughty."

It was the first time he could ever recall that someone had said he _wasn't _haughty. Eyebrows skeptically raised, he'd watched them in silence for nearly a half hour, until their conversation had left the topic of his last encounter with them behind. Only then did he stroll forward into their view.

He never told anyone about that field, or the four grandmothers who came eventually to count on his arrival when the days were hottest. He never stayed long, only long enough to bring a cooling breeze or a refreshing rain – though once they learned of his weakness for fresh fruit they began to exert their power over him, as all old women must. He hardly spoke, and never smiled, but that didn't seem to bother them. "Rain child," they called him, and he never told them his real name.

All four grandmothers died a few years later, but he remembered them fondly. As did Hyourinmaru. A zanpakutou, it was commonly accepted, cared nothing for the opinions of anyone save their wielders. But the dragon basked in any chance to be set free, and when Hitsugaya felt content, Hyourinmaru was less restless.

They were mirrors to each other, Hitsugaya soon realized. He often wondered if all Shinigami felt so with their swords, but knew better than to ask. When he went too long without challenging his skill, the dragon within began to coil tighter; cold winds crept into his dreams, and he found himself feeling more snappish than usual. And for days after a particularly difficult or rewarding exercise, a cool euphoria made his steps feel light, influenced by a sense of satisfaction that was not entirely his own.

Over time he came to develop his own theory about zanpakutou. The stronger the Shinigami, the more closely they seemed to resemble their swords, and their swords them. Perhaps some of them clashed in the beginning, perhaps some Shinigami never felt comfortable with the nature of their zanpakutou – but if you held a mirror up long enough, eventually a reflection would be cast. Whether you liked it or not.

He could not imagine wielding any other zanpakutou but Hyourinmaru. He could not imagine – nor clearly remember – a life not haunted by the desire to fly, or skin not familiar with the touch of cold. Within mere months after discovering his sword's name, he could not imagine a time when the dragon hadn't been able to speak to him.

If it so desired.

Sword and wielder, in this case, were mirrors to each other in many ways.

Long stretches of time would sometimes pass in which Hyourinmaru seemed content to say nothing, provided training – or even better, Hollow hunting – had proved rewarding enough. And then there were nights when Hitsugaya wanted nothing more than to sleep uninterrupted, but his zanpakutou might feel an evening of shared introspection was in order.

Most of the time, however, they did not need long conversations to communicate with each other.

**_You have freedom here,_** Hyourinmaru said, a few months after his acceptance to the 7th.

It had not taken Hitsugaya long to find a spot of roof angled away from the sightlines of the compound's residential areas, and he often retreated there after night had fallen, to lay on his back and watch the stars. It was always a quiet time, and Hyourinmaru often spoke to him then, when his mind was clear and the night cool.

The blade lay on the roof tiles beside him while the dragon turned slow and graceful loops in the air high above, sliding sinuously through its own coils in a ceaseless spiral dance, stars winking through and between its movements.

"I hope so," he'd said in response.

**_They have not yet tried to interfere. They can sense the dragon in you. _**

"Maybe. Or maybe they just don't know what to do with me yet. With us."

**_They are training warriors, are they not? It makes no sense to cripple you by inhibition. They will give you freedom to fly. _**

"Maybe."

Hyourinmaru hissed, a sound like steam fighting through frozen air. It was the first time Hitsugaya had ever heard the dragon's laughter. It did not happen often.

**_You take so much pleasure in doubt. _**

"I do not. I'm merely being realistic."

**_As you wish. Call it what you will. So long as the dance that we share remains free of doubting, I am content. _**

A long time of silence passed. The stars became blurry points of light as Hitsugaya let his eyes fall half closed; Hyourinmaru moved like silver shadow over them.

"Will you wait for me, Hyourinmaru?"

With anyone else, he would have had to explain himself. To try to find words to express his frustration with the way others perceived him, and the limitations their perceptions placed on him. To express his uncertainty about choosing his path, or at least the speed at which he would walk it. To express the deeper, almost unacknowledged fear that he might not prove adequate to the dragon's needs.

But he didn't have to say it.

Hyourinmaru never needed the burden of too many words.

**_I will always wait. Without you, I am nothing. _**

He closed his eyes, nodding his thanks. His hand moved across the tiles to close lightly around his sheathed sword.

**_But I will not always wait patiently. _**

"Hnh," he breathed, a sound of dry amusement. "Me neither."

* * *

The monthly meetings for seated officers were Hitsugaya's least favorite aspect of his duties. Many years later, he could trace his dislike for meetings of any sort back to his earliest days in the 7th, though in retrospect he would come to appreciate the relative discipline of Komamura's court. But even the most reserved of Captains could not completely quell the head-butting of strong-willed Shinigami by example alone.

A year into Hitsugaya's position as fifth seat in 7th Division, the monthly meetings took a turn for the worse with the promotion of Ikkanzaka Jiroubou to sixth seat.

"It is a disgrace!" Jiroubou insisted, as pompous as ever, making his presence loudly known at only his second meeting as a newly transferred member of the division. "To have been defeated by merely three Hollows! A sign of poor training, surely."

Hitsugaya clenched his teeth, and kept his gaze locked on the low table before him. His ink brush lay, untouched, beside his stack of reports and his blank parchment. There had not yet been a reason to take any notes. Preoccupation with a disastrous hunting expedition which had only yesterday killed two division members – and Jiroubou's insistent opinions on the subject – had brought the entire meeting to a standstill.

"I don't think you are in any position, yet, to be commenting on the process or product of training in our squads, Ikkanzaka," said Watari Kazuo, his normally serene expression hardened now.

_No kidding, _Hitsugaya thought sourly to himself. Beside him, Etsuko Aru, the seventh seat, and the man who had been responsible for training the squad in question, was doing an admirable job of keeping both his anger and his sorrow in check. But Hitsugaya could see, out of the corner of his eye, the man's hands closed in tight fists on his folded knees. To Hitsugaya's other side, Kentaro Yumiko was making no effort to keep the disgust from showing clearly on her face. It was almost impressive, really, how quickly Jiroubou had managed to infuriate nearly every seated officer in the division. Anyone who could drive even Watari Kazuo to break his calm had to be credited with a certain gift, unwelcome though it might be.

"More importantly," interjected Akita Sachio, the third seat, and significantly easier to ruffle than Watari, "this is hardly what I would call the appropriate time. We lost men out there. Recriminations can come later."

"It is the _best _time for recriminations!" Jiroubou retorted. "When the wounds are still fresh, the lesson will be taken to heart!"

Hitsugaya could feel the twitch beginning in his frown, and this time he picked up the ink brush and began twisting it determinedly between his fingers, to keep himself from forming fists of his own.

Maybe it was the man's size that made him think he could get away with looking down on everyone. It was almost impossible to imagine that this arrogant idiot could be related to Jidanbou. At least Jidanbou was a _kind _idiot.

This time Etsuko Aru looked like he wouldn't be able to hold himself in check any longer. His fists opened, his fingers clutching at his knees, and his gaze locked in challenge on Jiroubou's face.

But another voice forestalled him.

"The lesson," Komamura said, "is well learned."

Everyone fell silent. Even Jiroubou. All eyes turned – most of them gratefully – to their Captain's helmeted figure, where he sat on a plain mat before his solitary table, one large, gauntleted hand resting on the report containing the details of the failed mission. And the names of the dead men.

"You are new here, Ikkanzaka," Komamura went on steadily. "And so your outrage and incomprehension both are to be forgiven. You will see for yourself, given time, that the training our officers provide is more than adequate. These tragedies happen, when facing Hollows. It is inevitable. Not all are strong enough to survive. That does not mean their sacrifice should not be honored. And so there has been enough argument. This discussion ends now. Watari. Your report on mortal world missions, if you will."

When the meeting finally ended, even Komamura seemed swifter than usual in beating a retreat. Vice Captain Imada was close on his heels, his hand hovering near his obi where his zanpakutou would have been, had they been in the field. Watari also left quickly, no doubt to find a place where he could allow his discipline to crack in private.

Jiroubou strutted out, ducking to get through the doorway, pretending not to notice the stares like daggers being shot at his back as he went.

Akita Sachio did not even wait for the sound of the larger man's footsteps to have fully faded before letting out an explosive sigh of annoyance. "You'd think," he said, throwing himself back onto his elbows and propping his feet carelessly up on the low table, "with such a glowing recommendation from Kurotsuchi-taichou, that the man would have a bit more brains."

"Who knows," Yumiko said dryly, gathering up her papers to leave. "With 12th Division, it's possible he's had his brains scrambled beyond repair."

"Ch." Etsuko was on his feet now, and looked like he wanted to kick something. He was normally a good-natured young man, always quick with a smile, but he was taking the loss of his subordinates hard. "If he ever had any to begin with. That sort doesn't need to think. They just muscle their way through the world, not caring who they step on."

Hitsugaya rose from his mats, his own papers in hand. "He just likes to hear himself talk," he said coolly, and set off toward the door.

"Yeah, that's true," Akita said, then pushed himself up off his elbows and swung his feet down from the table in such a rush that he knocked over his inkstone, splashing black stains heedlessly over the mats. "Hey, Hitsugaya! Why haven't you agreed to come to the officers' exercise tomorrow?"

"I haven't decided yet," he replied, without pausing or turning back.

"Oi! What kind of a response is that? Come on, you never bring out that shikai of yours. Don't you want to show it off for once?"

"No."

"Aaah!" Akita exploded in another exasperated sigh. The sound of his body collapsing back onto the mats was all that was needed in order to paint the image of his dramatic performance.

Hitsugaya finally paused in the doorway, his back still turned to the room, and rolled his eyes. "I said I haven't decided yet. I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Which means no, of course," Etsuko said, and his usual smile could be heard again in his tone.

"Don't do it to show off, then," Akita said. "Do it to put that bastard Jiroubou in his place."

Hitsugaya froze. There was silence in the room behind him now. It was the first time anyone had openly acknowledged, even through mere implication like this, that his strength might be greater than a fifth seat's standards.

Akita Sachio had been third seat in 7th Division for thirty years. Hitsugaya had previously thought him too undisciplined; his name appeared often enough on drunken damage reports to make the fifth seat's temples pound. But his words that night marked the moment at which Hitsugaya made his choice, and he would always remember them.

Waiting, he decided then, was no longer an option. He would not hold himself back, just to make it easier for others to accept him.

Because those whose opinions truly mattered would not ask him to wait.

He was grateful to Akita for speaking that night, though he was never close enough to the man to mention it. But even though Akita never knew it, he sparked crucial change in Hitsugaya Toushiro's life two times. And this first, with such simple prompting, was by far the lesser of the two.

"All right," Hitsugaya said, turning his head just enough to shoot the division's third seat officer a glance over his shoulder. "I'll be there."

Akita grinned. "Good. Freeze his ass solid for us."

Several days later, when Hitsugaya went to visit Jidanbou, compelled despite himself to apologize for what he'd done to his friend's little brother, Jidanbou just laughed.

"It was a one on one duel," Jidanbou said, and this time when he reached out to pat his smaller friend on the head, a sense of guilt made Hitsugaya stand still to endure it, his arms stubbornly folded. "It was Hitsugaya-kun who talked so much about being civilized, remember? I am sure that you beat him fairly."

"Yes," Hitsugaya said, finally sliding out from beneath Jidanbou's hand and running a hand through his hair to put it back into its usual – less squashed – disarray. "It was certainly a fair fight."

Deep in his mind, he could almost imagine he heard Hyourinmaru let out one of the dragon's rare, hissing laughs.

"Besides," Jidanbou added, squinting thoughtfully into the sunset beyond the West Gate, "he was always the idiot of the family."

* * *

As though fate were validating his choice, the following months were filled with examples of others advancing in rank or skill, achieving goals long desired.

It began with the rumor spreading through 7th Division that their third seat, Akita Sachio, had put himself forward for the Vice Captain's exam. The rumor was met with a mixture of pleasure and regret, for Akita was well-loved by most in the division, particularly the lower ranks with whom he had always got along well, and they all wished him success even as they hoped he wouldn't be leaving them.

It took Hitsugaya several days to get the truth, for Akita was suddenly nowhere to be found in the compound's inner buildings, and the office Hitsugaya shared with the third, fourth and sixth seats had been empty of all but Jiroubou every time he went there to work. Jiroubou had stopped talking to him altogether since his ignominious defeat, which was fine by Hitsugaya.

When he finally did stumble across Watari Kazuo on his way through the training courtyard, he was even spared the struggle of trying to come up with a way of asking about Akita that wouldn't ruin the image of disinterest in base gossip that he had so carefully crafted over the last year. Watari took care of the problem for him by speaking first.

"Hitsugaya-san, I have news."

"Yes?"

"Would you join me for a walk through the garden?"

He would have turned down the invitation with a skeptically raised eyebrow had it come from anyone else, but he answered Watari's request only with a nod and fell into step beside him. They walked in silence for a good while, and it became obvious that Watari wanted to ensure they had complete privacy. The fragrant shadow of an isolated sakura tree apparently met with his satisfaction, and after a quick glance around to be sure they were alone, he gave Hitsugaya one of his characteristically faint smiles that softened the long, lean lines of his face.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this before the formal announcement is made, but Komamura-taichou indicated that it wouldn't be a problem."

"This is about Akita?" Hitsugaya asked, trying not to sound too impatient, though he had few illusions about his ability to dissemble.

"Yes. He has passed his Vice Captain's exam, and word is that he will be assigned to 6th Division as soon as next week."

Hitsugaya frowned, tilting his head slightly to let a stray blossom drift down without catching in his hair.

He hadn't had a chance to interact with members of 6th Division save for the two full Gotei 13 meetings of all seated officers he had been called on to attend. But rumors were impossible to avoid, and since most of them were about 6th Division's famous Captain, he given them more of his attention than he generally allowed for tales or gossip.

Kuchiki Byakuya was said to be the strongest warrior the Kuchiki family had ever produced, and also, according to many, the strongest Captain currently alive in the Gotei 13. Hitsugaya did not know enough of the man to judge, but _that _was a claim he would have to see proven before he believed it. What, really, were the standards by which such strength was measured?

Kuchiki Byakuya was also rumored to be a strict and uncompromising Captain, and Hitsugaya had a hard time imagining that Akita Sachio would meet the disciplined requirements such a Captain would impose. He couldn't help thinking that Vice Captains should share their Captain's most prominent traits, to ensure harmony if nothing else. Surely that was the most effective way.

"I can guess at your doubts," Watari said, smiling again. "But I think Akita will be pleased. Kuchiki-taichou's division sees a great deal of combat, and Akita has been a third seat here for too long. He needs a chance to develop his skills, and a Vice Captain's responsibility will sober him, I think."

"Then it would be the first thing I've heard of with the power to keep him sober."

Watari shook his head rather ruefully, and Hitsugaya had a sudden, irritating suspicion that the man wasn't thinking about Akita's drinking habits at all. He knew perfectly well that he'd never been good at tact. So really, what was the point of making the effort now?

"Akita will be missed around here," Watari said then, placing one hand against the sakura tree's smooth bark.

Hitsugaya said nothing, but he nodded a silent agreement. Akita _would _be missed. By more than just the lower ranks.

"But Komamura-taichou has decided to make use of his promotion to make other changes in the division as well. It would seem that you and I will both be moving up a seat. I suspect you'll find a fourth seat's paperwork a welcome change to hellmoth care reports."

The sense of relief that swept Hitsugaya then was strong enough that his expression must have betrayed him, because Watari actually laughed.

"Believe me, I remember. Congratulations. Frankly, I'm relieved it all worked out the way it has. After that display at the officers' exercise the other day, I think the Captain decided he was going to have to move you up one way or another. I'm just glad that this way you didn't end up stealing my seat from under me."

And though he said it kindly, and his smile never faltered, Hitsugaya sensed a quiet undercurrent of truth to the older man's words.

It was the first time he truly understood that others might view him as a threat to their own ambitions.

The following day, Komamura announced the changes at the officers' meeting, and word reached the rest of the division with lightning speed. In all the furor over Akita's departure, few – at least within the rank and file – were interested in the promotion of the other officers, and Hitsugaya was grateful that this step in his advancement went relatively unremarked. It was the first time since entering the Seireitei that anything had gone so smoothly for him.

He was grateful, too, that the frenzy of farewell celebrations being held all over the division compound allowed him to receive a visit from Hinamori that same night without anyone being the wiser.

"Oh, Hitsugaya-kun, you'll never believe me! I can hardly believe it myself! It's… it's too good be true."

"You should sit down before you hurt yourself," he said, but without much hope of being heeded. Hinamori's eyes were shining, almost feverish, and she held her hands clasped tightly to her chest as though to hold in a fluttering heart while she paced back and forth across his small room. He contented himself with watching her, his arms folded, from where he sat with his back against the doorframe. All seated officers in 7th Division had rooms with screens that could be opened out onto the compound's garden, and he often liked to leave them rolled back so that the night breeze entered.

"I couldn't possibly sit down. You'll never guess, Shiro-chan, you'll never – "

"You passed your Vice Captain's exam."

"Aah!" she wailed, throwing her arms up in the air. But her smile lit the room brighter than any candlelight. "How do you always figure things out so quickly? More importantly, how did you even know I was going to try the exam?"

"Because the two times I've seen you in the last six months, training was all you talked about," he said blandly, and it was perfectly true. Not only had she made repeated mention of how hard she had been working to bring her hakuda and sword techniques up to a level that might at least shadow her kidou, but the exhaustion in her eyes and movements had been obvious. She had been working herself to the bone, and he had been half tempted to warn her about pushing herself too hard. But what right would he have had to do so? None. He wasn't that much of a hypocrite. He only hoped Aizen appreciated how hard she was trying for his sake.

Because of course she must have been assigned as Aizen's Vice Captain. She would not have been this deliriously happy otherwise.

"Well, you're too smart for your own good," she said, "but of course you're right. And oh, I'm so glad that I did well enough, so glad. And Kira-kun too! He passed the exam as well, and they've already assigned him to be Ichimaru-taichou's Vice Captain." Her smile faltered, and she stared off into the garden as she said, "I don't really envy him. Ichimaru-taichou is… well, he's a Captain, and he was Aizen-taichou's second for so long… he must be a good Captain, right? I think maybe Kira-kun was hoping to be Aizen-taichou's second too… oh, Shiro-chan, does it make me a bad person that I'm happy it was me?"

"No," he said, and meant it, though seeing the expression on her face he would never have said otherwise, no matter his feelings.

"Thank goodness," she said, sighing heavily, and the light came slowly back into her face. "Because I am so happy it was me. I was so afraid I wouldn't be good enough, but now I'll have the chance to show him, to work for him, to be the Vice Captain he deserves. Or at least try to be. I need to go tell Abarai-kun as well, but I wanted to tell you first. Oh, he's going to be so jealous!" She giggled suddenly. "Or at least he'll pretend to be jealous. I know that he likes it in 11th Division, but he's too talented to be just a fifth seat there forever, and he knows it."

"Hn," Hitsugaya said by way of absent agreement, his gaze now locked on the half-moon shining pale over the rooftops. He had heard about Kira and Abarai countless times during Hinamori's years at the academy, and knew them – or at least about them – better than he cared to.

It made him feel uncomfortable, and he tried not to let his frown deepen and betray him, but all he could think of was how her words might relate to _him. _He wondered if he should mention that he himself had just been promoted from his own fifth seat earlier that day, but the thought died almost as soon as it came. He didn't want to have to _tell_ her. But he didn't really expect her to know. She had her own life to worry about, he reminded himself, and besides, today could be her day. She had worked hard for it.

He, on the other hand, had not even started to work.

Oh, he'd performed his duties well enough. Perfectly, in fact. But so far, nothing that had happened to him – his early graduation from the academy, his posting, his most recent advancement – had come as a result of his effort. It came for being what he naturally was.

Hinamori had worked so hard.

Why should he expect to succeed without doing the same?

"Eh? Hitsugaya-kun, what's the matter?"

He realized suddenly that he was grimacing, and forced himself to relax; he could indulge in self-recrimination later. "Nothing. So when do you begin your new duties?"

"Tomorrow. Oh, I'm suddenly nervous! Do _you _think I'll be a good Vice Captain?"

"Idiot. Why are you asking me? You know your own abilities. Isn't this what you've been working for? Why are you going to doubt yourself now?"

"You're right," she said, letting his words and his tone of voice pass over her as she always had, as though he were the most gracious of friends, and she the least abused. Some things about her would never change, it seemed. "I can't doubt myself. Aizen-taichou deserves a confident Vice Captain!"

"If you say so."

"He does!" she retorted, so quickly and hotly that he blinked, taken aback for the first time that he could recall in Momo's company.

Perhaps some things _had _changed.

"He's a good man, Hitsugaya-kun," she said firmly. "One day I hope you'll know him better, and then you'll see." And as if her eyes hadn't been bright a moment ago with indignation, she smiled again, and gave a tiny little spin that sent the ends of her sleeves flying. "Oh, that's such a wonderful idea! Have you ever thought of transferring to 5th Division? You should come, and then you could see for your – "

"I'm happy here," he said. "Komamura is a good Captain."

"He seems so… so serious."

"Yes."

Her smile took on a slightly mischievous look, which was rare enough from Momo to make him suddenly wary. But all she said was, "Maybe he's the best Captain for you after all, ne?"

"There's nothing wrong with being serious about things," he said, working very hard not to sound sulky. He wished he had Hyourinmaru at his side, and shot a regretful look to the polished wood katanakake, where his sword currently rested on the altar table beside his bed. Somehow, in Momo's presence, he started to feel like a child again without his zanpakutou at hand. It was almost enough to make him resent her. Almost.

"I've missed your frown," she said cheerfully by way of reply, but before he could think of a response, she had raised her hands to her hair, tightened the ribbons tying it back, and skipped to the door. "But I should go now, I have to find Abarai-kun, and then I need to get back to my division compound. Maybe I can get a head start on my new reports and have them all done for Aizen-taichou first thing in the morning!"

And with that she was gone.

It would be many years before they were alone together again.

* * *

Hitsugaya spent nearly a decade in 7th Division, and never once saw his Captain's face. It wouldn't be until many years after his departure that he finally saw Komamura unmasked, but the revelation would not surprise him. He never spent much time in Komamura's immediate company, but the large Captain's reiatsu told Hitsugaya all he needed to know about his power. And his calm words, his steadfast espousal of all things dignified, told Hitsugaya all he needed to know about his personality. After that, what did faces really matter? It was something he often wished others would consider when dealing with _him,_ and so he made it his own philosophy whenever he could.

His elevation to fourth seat increased his time spent with the third seat and the Vice Captain, though not significantly with Komamura himself. He had been given more advanced squads to train, and though hellmoth care reports were no longer on his agenda, he did spend more time dealing individually with the Shinigami returning from assignments in the mortal world. And his paperwork, though less in volume, required more of his attention. Compiling the data to account for the balance maintained by 7th Division's representatives – Hollows killed, soul burials performed, souls moving in and out of Rukongai under his division's supervision – became his primary concern, and in this he worked closely with Watari Kazuo in his third seat position. This meant, unfortunately, that the number of meetings he had to attend increased dramatically, but at least they were small affairs, usually only himself, Watari, and Vice Captain Imada.

Imada Natsu was a man on the shorter side, at least compared to the likes of Komamura and Watari, though he was easily twice as broad across the shoulders as Watari, and one of few people who managed to not look fragile at Komamura's side. He laughed often, but did not speak much, and some speculated that the scar splitting the side of his face – souvenir of a deadly Hollow attack – had cut not only his lips but into his tongue as well, making speech difficult.

It was of course not true, but after a few years of watching Imada smile as he hung back in conversations, Hitsugaya suspected that Imada thought the rumor amusing, and enjoyed playing into the mystique. In their meetings together, he was always willing to turn serious attention to their business, but he also insisted on ending every meeting with a shared drink of sake and the latest joke he had heard while out on patrols. The jokes were rarely funny, but Imada laughed at them all the same, even though he was the one to tell them. If asked, Hitsugaya would not have been able to put into words just what he thought about the man, but at least Imada never gave him reason to rue the time they spent working together.

Imada was also unfailingly honest, and this pleased Hitsugaya most of all.

"You're the best swordsman in this division, Hitsugaya," he said one day, as they stood together under the eaves of the meeting hall overlooking the training courtyard. In the yard, the top squads were drilling. A faint drizzle shone on skin and sword blades, while at the other end of the yard kidou fire sizzled through the air like comets trailing steam. "And I don't think there's a zanpakutou here, except taichou's, that could stand against yours. But your hakuda needs work. When you're not holding a sword, it's as if your feet always want to move faster than your hands. You'll leave too many openings that way."

Admittedly, Hitsugaya was half tempted to point out that Imada himself was no hakuda master, but even he knew when tactlessness could be taken too far. And besides, Imada was right. His hakuda remained the weakest of the four basic Shinigami disciplines in his training, and though he was pleased with the improvement in his kidou, hakuda was beginning to annoy him. It was not, in the end, a vital discipline to any Shinigami not in the Onmitsukidou brigades, but he hated the thought of leaving gaps in his ability.

It had not taken Hitsugaya long to realize that he preferred to fight alone, and when duty called him into the field against Hollows he rarely waited for others to catch up to him. He was not good at developing a rapport with comrades in battle, and consequently found them a hindrance to his strategy more often than a help. He knew that some people saw this as arrogance, but he wasn't about to jeopardize his own safety – and theirs, too, if they would stop to realize it – just to make others think more kindly of him.

But the first time he entered the battlefield with Imada, it became clear that the Vice Captain shared his tendency to want to take fights on alone. In their battles together, few though these were, they would split up rather than join forces. Hitsugaya found it a relief to be able to focus on his own opponent, and not have to worry about what was going on behind him.

So when Imada came to him one afternoon and asked for his assistance in hunting down a dangerous Hollow, he felt no reservations about agreeing.

"You may not have heard," Imada told him as they left the compound, moving swiftly through the Seireitei toward the West Seireimon, Jidanbou's gate, "since the reports have only come in since last night, but we've already lost nearly a whole unit to this Hollow."

"Which unit?" he asked, his voice level, though he very much hoped it hadn't been one of his, past or present.

"Watari's second squad. He's busy overseeing the transfer of the remaining wounded to 4th Division. That's best. The reports say this Hollow seems unusually resistant to kidou, and that puts Watari and his zanpakutou both at a disadvantage."

"Yes. Is it only one Hollow?"

"Most of the survivors seem to think so, but I suspect otherwise. Too much damage. A few years ago Komamura-taichou and I encountered a Hollow which had spawned other Hollows that resembled it. They attacked in concert, and I think this might be a similar case."

"The Hollow outside Inuzuri district," he said, nodding.

"You _do _spend a lot of time researching old records, don't you?"

Hitsugaya didn't bother to answer. The question was clearly rhetorical, and anyway he wasn't about to start defending his actions. He did spend a great deal of his time exploring archives. He wouldn't say he found it _fun_, but there were far less pleasant ways to pass the time. At least surrounded by old scrolls and ledgers he was guaranteed company that would pose questions he actually wanted to find answers for.

"I want to take care of this problem before any other divisions feel like they have to get involved," Imada said, the scar on his face seeming to stretch as his expression hardened. When he smiled the disfiguring effect of the scar on his lips was unnoticeable, but a somber set to his jaw made his mouth seem somehow lopsided. Hitsugaya watched him curiously out of the corner of his eye as they walked. It wasn't often he saw the Vice Captain looking so grim.

At the West Gate, Jidanbou saw them off. The great wall was nowhere in sight, but Jidanbou had been a gate guardian long enough to know instinctively where his gate would fall, as well as how to make himself nearly invisible in the area even though there never seemed to be anything large enough around to hide his bulk. Even as a child in Jyunrinan, Hitsugaya had been able to see deficiencies in Jidanbou's ability, but he had never been blind to the gifts the huge Shinigami _did _possess.

"Hunting Hollows, Hitsugaya-kun?" Jidanbou boomed. Hitsugaya just nodded. Imada raised his hand briefly toward Jidanbou in salute, but neither officer slowed their pace. "Tell me all about it when you come back," Jidanbou called after them, and Hitsugaya nodded again, this time raising his own hand in a farewell gesture over his shoulder. He probably ought to visit Jidanbou later, really. It had been several months since he visited last, and he knew that Jidanbou didn't have much in the way of entertainment. Hitsugaya had no illusions about the entertainment value of his own company, but he owed the large Shinigami that much at least.

"I sent a reconnaissance team ahead last night, so they'll be expecting us outside the 75th district," Imada said, as they moved through Jyunrinan's streets on their way towards the outskirts. Hitsugaya passed through his old childhood haunts without a second glance. He didn't want to see the way faces he might once have known would look at him now that he was Shinigami. He had never made friends as easily as Jidanbou.

"They'll be waiting for a while," Hitsugaya said. It was a long way to the 75th.

"Yes. It'll be quite a run. Save shunpo for the end."

Hitsugaya didn't need the warning, but he nodded acknowledgement anyway. If Imada thought this Hollow enough of a threat that he wanted the two of them to take it on personally, then it would be foolish to arrive exhausted after thousands of needless shunpo. The run would be tiring in its own way, but a seated officer's spirit level could handle it.

Even so, by the time they came within the bounds of West Rukongai's 75th district, many hours had passed, the sun was beginning its final descent, and Hitsugaya was glad for the chance to stop and let strained muscles cool, though he would never have admitted it. His deeper power reserves had not been tapped, but the looks of amazement on the faces of the reconnaissance team when they realized how far and how fast their second and fourth seat officers had come were not unmerited.

"Report," Imada said, admirably hiding any fatigue he might be feeling.

"Sir!" A young man leapt up immediately from his crouch in the tall grass, one hand pressing against the zanpakutou sheath through his obi as he spoke. "We think the Hollow has a lair in the ravine there. Per your orders, we haven't sent anyone down to investigate, but the air stinks of it."

He was right. Hitsugaya felt his nose and throat itching, irritated by the way only Hollows could foul the air. He knew that other Shinigami had different ways of interpreting the way they sensed a Hollow's nearness, but for him it was always a matter of smell, something he couldn't avoid or fail to notice. A sensitive spirit sense was not always a good thing to have.

"Spread your team along the south and north sides of the ravine," Imada instructed. "Form a strong perimeter. Try to delay the Hollow's progress if it attempts to make an escape, but don't engage it fully. Hitsugaya and I will pursue."

"Yes, sir."

"Hitsugaya."

"Yes."

With that, they advanced to the ravine's edge; the tall, dry grasses rustled with their movements, but the noise was of no concern. A Hollow would be able to sense strong reiatsu as clearly as those projecting it could sense a Hollow's taint.

Imada crouched at the ravine's edge, and Hitsugaya stood beside him, staring down. It was not a large chasm. He was sure he would be able to leap to the other side with ease. But it was deep as well as narrow, and ragged outcroppings and shards of stone jutted out at various levels, providing many shadows and hiding places. It was no surprise the Hollow had chosen to lair here, and the terrain would serve it even better in the long shadows cast by the setting sun.

After staring into the ravine's depths for several minutes in silence, Imada looked up at him. "What do you think?"

Hitsugaya shrugged slightly, though he did not uncross his arms.

It had not taken him long, after entering the Gotei 13, to devise a method of carrying Hyourinmaru across his back rather than through his obi, giving him the freedom to fold his arms as he wished. The few people who had been brave enough to suggest that he did it because he was so short that the end of his saya might drag along the ground otherwise were not brave enough to say it a second time.

"I'll take the eastern approach," was all he said now, though the thought of facing into the sunset was not appealing. Better he face the handicap head on, however, so that he would be prepared to compensate for it.

"All right. No need to wait for signals. Act at your discretion, and we'll take it as it comes."

"I can do that."

"I know," Imada said, smiling again, and with a nod they parted ways.

A dozen long flash steps took Hitsugaya far enough eastward that he felt satisfied with the net of space he and Imada would have cast between them, and he began his descent. Fortunately, the rocky outcroppings offered him an easy method of approach as well as cover to the enemy, and five leaps down from tier to tier was enough to reach the ravine floor.

The shadows were deep, but shafts of dark gold sunlight angled down into the chasm at unpredictable intervals, so that he had to be careful about planning his movements in a way that would preserve his dark vision. It was cold as well, but that was almost a comfort. It was deep enough into evening now that the rocks had released the heat captured during the day, and the faint breeze winding through the ravine picked up the occasional dusty patch along the stony ground to form brown whirlwinds that whispered against the hem of his hakama and scratched softly under his sandals.

The dragon inside began to move, awakened by the promise of battle. Along his back, Hyourinmaru burned with a cold fire, tangible even through the wood of his saya and the fabric of his clothing.

_It's been a while hasn't it? _Hitsugaya sent the thought inward, and the eager pressure in his chest lessened faintly in response.

A few moments' concentration told him that the Hollow's taint was stronger ahead than behind, and so he advanced along the ravine's bottom, confident that he was closing in on his prey.

The minutes seemed long, as they always did before a battle was joined, and his cautious progress from the shelter of one stone overhang to another was beginning to seem more of an impediment than a help before he heard and sensed the first sign of the Hollow's immediate nearness.

It sounded as though the monster were… humming to itself. Hitsugaya frowned, and told himself that he was only imagining the tone of _satisfaction _in that sound. To think anything else would only make him angry, and hurt his concentration. It might not have been one of his squads that had been decimated, but they were his division, and he felt a sense of responsibility for them.

He was not surprised when the Hollow began speaking. Not all Hollows could speak, or at least not all were focused enough in their malice to bother doing so, but the more powerful the Hollow the more likely it was to want to express itself. Some Shinigami found it disconcerting; it made the Hollows seem somehow less monstrous, and so more difficult to kill.

Hitsugaya did not have that problem.

"Come out, come out, little Shinigami. I can feel that you're near. No need to creep."

Hitsugaya did not bother to reply. Nor did he move. He remained crouched beneath a wide overhang, and worked at sorting out the echoes in the ravine to pinpoint the Hollow's exact location by sound.

"Come now, don't tell me you're afraid. True, I killed those other Shinigami quite easily, but then I've been doing that for months and months, and still you all keep coming. If you're that afraid, you really shouldn't have come."

The dragon turned in his chest, and in his mind's ear Hitsugaya could hear scales sliding across each other like the soft, frozen sound of snow brushing over ice. But neither he nor the dragon had any intention of dealing in the softness of snow when the moment came.

Another moment's concentration told him that Imada's reiatsu was approaching, but at a significant distance yet.

The battle was his to start.

He put a hand back over his shoulder and closed his fingers around Hyourinmaru.

"That last group came at me all together, you know. Everyone before came one at a time, and they were even easier to kill. I would have thought that by now you'd be sending a whole army, not going back to one on one combat."

Moving as stealthily now as his training allowed, Hitsugaya stepped out from beneath the overhang and leapt immediately upward. The Hollow's arrogance had kept it talking, and betrayed its position fully. Sure of his path, Hitsugaya landed on a crooked pillar of rock with one sandaled foot, pushed off, and leapt higher to a narrow outcropping. One shunpo took him from there to a wider ledge, just below the shelf in the ravine wall on which the Hollow was standing, half-emerged from a cave-like indentation in the stone.

He pulled Hyourinmaru free, and swung the blade upward as he jumped again, directly toward the underbelly of the shelf. Stone offered his sword no significant resistance, and another shunpo, pushing briefly off the spirit energy in the air, sent him backward out of the avalanche of the shelf's collapse. He hit the opposite wall of the ravine with both feet in a crouch parallel to the floor, one hand between his knees to steady him against the rock, then pushed off before gravity could do its work and followed after the Hollow in its plunge toward the bottom of the gorge.

His swoop down upon the enemy did not go as smoothly as he had hoped, however.

The Hollow was vaguely man-shaped, though many times a man's size, and it adapted smoothly to its fall, swinging one long arm up to block the descending sword. A thick white substance like a narrow shield of bone covered the outside of its arm, and though it chipped under the blade, it did not shatter.

Hitsugaya barely had time to dodge the Hollow's other arm as it swung around in a counterattack, and he alighted on the ravine floor only a few paces away from the enemy, his sword held in a guarding position.

The Hollow struck bottom amidst a landslide of falling rock from the ledge's destruction, and the dust settled on its black and white body like a second skin. It lurched out of the debris with a hiss of annoyance, and the burning yellow eyes in its mask were fixed on Hitsugaya.

"Cunning, cunning, little Shinigami. Maybe trying one on one again will be fun after all."

"Ch," Hitsugaya spit out dismissively, narrowing his eyes. "Don't bother thinking this is a duel. You'd have to be something other than a beast to qualify as anything more than prey."

"Oh, he talks big! But can you – "

Hitsugaya didn't bother to wait. A step and a leap took him several yards up the wall – he pushed off, higher, pushed off the opposite wall again – and brought Hyourinmaru around in an angled swing with the aim of removing one of the Hollow's armored arms. But the Hollow was fast. Faster than he'd truly been expecting. It twisted just enough to avoid losing the arm, but Hyourinmaru's blade cut deep, and dark blood splattered over the surrounding rocks.

Perching on a higher outcropping, Hitsugaya reconsidered his approach. He'd hoped to end this without reverting to a shikai release, but he realized now that he had only been catering to vanity.

That was a bad habit, and he decided, right then, to break it.

Too long hearing "tensai" behind his back. He wouldn't deserve to be called anything other than idiot if he let that undermine sound judgment.

So be it.

_Time to fly, _he sent inward, and held his sword ready.

"Soar in the frozen sky – Hyourinmaru!"

The dragon roared through the ravine like a sudden storm, the jagged edges of its icy body sharper than any nearby stone.

_**Time to sing,**_Hyourinmaru replied, deep in his mind, and Hitsugaya agreed by letting the dragon roar, its mouth opened wide to crush the Hollow in its frozen jaws.

The Hollow tried again to evade, but a sudden deluge of water around it caused it to lose its footing. Limber and seemingly jointless, the Hollow twisted its huge body to lurch out of harm's way – but the dragon moved like sleet in the wind, and though its jaws missed their mark, the freezing length of its body did its work. Ice bloomed along the Hollow's already injured arm, and Hitsugaya leapt through a sudden opening in the dragon's coils, his sword a flash of light – and the Hollow's arm in its ice casing shattered, falling away in a shower of white fragments.

The Hollow screamed in pain and outrage, spinning around to strike back.

But Hitsugaya had already brought the dragon back around. It was coiled so tightly close to him, cramped between the ravine's walls, that it formed a nearly impenetrable, moving shield around his body. With a tiny snap of motion in his wrist, he let the sword tip point the way, and the dragon shot forward again.

He was so intent on ending the fight quickly, so intent on landing a decisive blow, that he almost missed the approach of the second Hollow. The shadow gave it away, and he had cause at last to be glad for the angle of the sunlight as it sent all shadows running long before it.

He threw himself to the side, hitting one shoulder sharply against a rock edge, and brought Hyourinmaru's blade up just in time to deflect a swipe of Hollow claws.

Time to rethink his strategy again.

Using the ravine walls as opposing faces off which to push, he leapt once more to a higher ledge, and the dragon moved after him. The ravine bottom was by now slick with icy patches in many places, and it hindered the Hollows' movements enough to buy him time.

But he didn't need the time.

Someone was drawing near. Drawing very quickly near. And it wasn't Imada.

The strength of this reiatsu was far, far too strong to be Imada's, and because Hitsugaya had never before sensed it fully unleashed, he did not recognize it for Komamura's until the Captain's large body leapt down into the ravine like a falling boulder.

"Roar," Komamura said, and his voice rumbled through the ravine like a storm all its own, "Tengen!"

A shape so large and so fast that Hitsugaya could not be sure his eyes hadn't merely deceived him into thinking it resembled a giant's hand swept through the ravine, and the second Hollow that had ambushed him simply exploded under the impact of a lightning flash in the form of a monstrously large sword.

Komamura stood calmly in the haze of the Hollow's disintegrating body and turned his helmeted head up to Hitsugaya, who understood instinctively that he was being given the time in which to finish the battle he had started. Nodding his understanding, Hitsugaya adjusted his grip on Hyourinmaru to ready for another leap, and this time he called on the chain to follow.

_Time to end this._

_**Past time. **_

_Come. _

And now he could see the true phantom shape of Hyourinmaru's star-silver body beside him, shadowing his movements, and they fell on the Hollow together.

It turned, just enough to make a clean strike at its mask impossible, attempting to swat its attacker from the air with its remaining arm.

Hitsugaya twisted in flight, planted both feet on the Hollow's large shoulder, and snapped the chain so that it coiled with quicksilver speed around the Hollow's upraised arm. Ice flowed down the chain's length, and one more snap was enough to break the second arm. The Hollow lurched, shrieking, under his feet, trying bodily to throw him off.

Hitsugaya jumped up again, and this time on his descent he did not miss. Hyourinmaru's blade cut cleanly through the mask, and as the Hollow's body began its slow dissolve, Hitsugaya's ears were filled with the sound of the dragon's triumphant roar. High above, changing waning sunlight to moonlight as it filtered through a serpentine body, Hyourinmaru's spirit form circled over the ravine.

Sword still in hand, but carefully held in a non-threatening guard position appropriate to his Captain's presence, Hitsugaya turned to face Komamura. The large Captain also still held his sword, and the cold wind generated by Hyourinmaru's shikai fluttered his Captain's jinbaori around him.

"And so our colleagues are avenged," he said, and the weight of his gaze was palpable even through the helmet.

Hitsugaya nodded, and let the ice dragon fade. His shikai re-sealed, he sheathed Hyourinmaru's blade, but the zanpakutou's spirit remained very much present.

_**Too short,**_it said. **_Too short a flight. But good. Every day we fly higher. Someday we will fly so high that none will be able to catch us. Someday. _**

Komamura slowly sheathed his sword as well, and stepped over the icy ground without a hitch in his long stride. He stopped at Hitsugaya's side, and looked suddenly upwards.

"Your zanpakutou," he said. "You can see it here, can't you?"

Hitsugaya did not look up. He knew, better than he knew the rhythm of his own breathing, exactly where Hyourinmaru was.

"Yes," he said, suddenly anxious for no reason he could logically explain. He felt somehow possessive of Hyourinmaru's presence, unwilling to expose the intimacy of his awareness where the dragon was concerned. Even though he was certain that most Shinigami probably felt the same way about their own zanpakutou, it didn't make the feeling any less sharp.

"I cannot see it," Komamura said then, tilting his helmeted face back down to his fourth seat officer. "Yet. But I suspect, after what I sensed in this battle, that it may not be long before I can. Have you begun training to manifest your zanpakutou's form fully in this world?"

In spite of all his plans, all of his new resolutions in regards to his training and advancement, Hitsugaya was taken aback by the question.

There was only one reason to train for full manifestation of a zanpakutou's form in this world.

"No," he answered honestly.

High above, still circling, Hyourinmaru was suddenly and unnervingly completely silent.

For a while Komamura said nothing, and Hitsugaya fought the urge to cross his arms defensively against the silence from both Captain and dragon. A silence that seemed to demand from him answers he did not yet have.

It hadn't even been two years. Of all the choices he had made recently, this one, at least, had not yet seemed entirely within his reach. And yet…

At last, Komamura spoke again.

"Yamamoto Genryuusai-dono spoke to me about you, Hitsugaya Toushiro. On the day I agreed to take you into my division, he told me that your time as my subordinate would be short."

Without warning, Komamura stepped away from him. The black seven on his back was clear even in the ravine's shadows as he strode slowly away. His voice drifted back just as clearly.

"He was, as in all things, quite right."

In a flash of movement, unexpected from a man of Komamura's size, but to be expected from a Captain, he vanished.

Hitsugaya stood at the bottom of the ravine for a long time, unmoving. He did not even look up to watch Hyourinmaru's coiling flight. Neither did the dragon speak to him again. Not for many days.

They both knew that once this decision was made, there would be no turning back from the path it would lay before them.

When the rain came, Hitsugaya could not be sure it was his own doing. But he let it trail over his skin for several hours just the same.


	3. Part Three: A Path Through Snow

_Author's Notes: Well, this story keeps getting longer and longer. Or at least this chapter of it did. So I decided to cut it in half, which I guess will now make the whole story six chapters instead of five. Though at this rate the monster will just keep on growing. Either way, the first half of the next chapter is already done, so hopefully I'll get it up soon. In the meantime, here's part three, which doesn't get through as much stuff as I'd intended, but at least is not 300 pages long. _

_I also want to give some thanks to Yakaji, for good timeline discussion; and to selfavoidingwalk, for good omake discussion and a Hitsugaya fix; and to Kellen, whose well-captured Hitsugaya dialogue gave me something to chuckle over when I was re-reading fics to get me in a good mood. They're all writing really awesome stories, and reading good fic is as much of an inspiration as reading the manga itself. _

_And since I realized I haven't given a disclaimer yet, I'll just say that I don't own Bleach. Obviously. If I did, we'd know all about Hitsugaya's history already, making this fic unnecessary, and thus restoring to me a bit of my sanity._

**FROZEN SKY**

Part Three: A Path Through Snow

Not since his time at the academy, wondering how Shiba Kaien had weathered his school days under the weight of a "genius" title, had Hitsugaya wished so fervently for someone to talk to as he did in the days immediately following his exchange with Komamura. Not just someone to talk to, but someone of whom he could ask questions, and get honest answers.

There was no point going to the archives, for he had long ago read every scroll written on bankai release, and he did not want to risk being spotted now with those scrolls in hand. That would only engender rumors, and the last thing he wanted was to let his deepening interest in bankai be known; the murmurs behind his back would become intolerable should that happen. He could think of no one who would both be able to answer his questions and be willing not to make a fuss about it.

He did not even consider going to Hinamori. He could imagine her expression too clearly. Widened eyes. A small, helpless flutter of her hand.

"_Aah, Hitsugaya-kun, you don't mean that you're going to try training for bankai, do you? But… but it's far too soon, don't you think? After all, most Captains train for decades and decades, and that's after serving as Vice Captains and…" _

No, he couldn't go to Hinamori. Her predictable reaction aside, going to her would also feel a bit too much like… seeking comfort.

And that made him angry. With himself, for wishing it. With her, for inspiring the desire in him. Both were to be avoided, and so Hinamori was to be avoided altogether. On this issue at least.

Not that avoiding her would be a problem, of course. He hadn't seen her in months, not since she had become Aizen's Vice Captain.

But once Hinamori was eliminated from his list of options, it became painfully clear, in a way that he had not before bothered to closely examine, that he had no one else to talk to about personal matters.

Only Hyourimaru, and in this case, Hyourinmaru was not going to be a help.

He almost considered going to Komamura. He suspected that his Captain would answer any questions he might have, but asking them of Komamura would be tantamount to making a commitment, and he wasn't sure he was ready to do that just yet.

Insecurity was a new feeling for him. He didn't like it. Nor could he seem to shake it.

Sitting one night in the doorway to his room, looking out over the garden as he had the last time Hinamori had visited, he tried to sort out his reluctance. Analyzing his feelings was not something he often did, and he enjoyed it no more than he liked acknowledging his doubts, but it was preferable to letting himself be paralyzed by indecision.

He didn't doubt his ability to achieve bankai. True, it was not something he had dreamed of attempting so soon, but the moment Komamura had planted the idea in his mind he had known with absolute certainty that it was a goal within his grasp. He also had no illusions about the difficulty of the task. It would not be easy. But that made trying it all the more appealing. The thought of taking on a true challenge nearly made his palms tingle with eagerness to feel the crossing ridges of the cords wrapped around Hyourinmaru's grip against his skin, absorbing the sweat of true training.

So why was he hesitating?

Partly, he admitted to himself that night, as the hours dragged on and the moon spun over the garden and Hyourinmaru remained silent, he hesitated because of what came _after. _Achieving bankai was the goal of those who wished to become Captains, or at least to earn the renown of one, and that had never been his goal. True, it had crossed his mind, but not as a matter of desire, and certainly not something to be thought of so soon.

And if not that, then what?

He refused to believe that the only reason he had come to the Seireitei was to be part of Hinamori's world. He did not like to think what that would make of him. He might never be sure of his motivations, but surely that couldn't be _all_. He knew, without a doubt now, that this was where he belonged. But what would achieving bankai mean to Hinamori? To his relationship with her?

As the hour neared dawn, and this thought turned over and over in his mind, he finally let out a curt sound of frustration and leaned his head back against the screen's frame, his fists clenched tight under his arms.

This was _his _decision. What Himamori might think of it didn't matter. What Hinamori might think of _him _after the deed was done _couldn't _matter. If he couldn't make this decision without worrying about a childhood friend who no longer worried about him in the same way, if he couldn't make this decision alone, based on his own strength and his own ambitions, then he didn't _deserve_ Hyourinmaru's bankai.

"Hyourinmaru," he murmured into the cool air. "What will you show me if I try this?"

Hyourinmaru did not answer.

But instead of deterring him, the dragon's silence suddenly sharpened his desire to see what form the frozen spirit of his zanpakutou would take when its full power was exposed.

When he finally went to sleep that night, he dreamed of a thousand stars made of ice, like white flowers unfurling their petals over the dark ink of an endless sea, and he woke knowing the decision had been made.

* * *

Seated officer meetings in the 7th seemed even duller than usual for the first few month's after Akita Sachio's promotion to 6th Division's Vice Captainship. Akita had always been the liveliest presence in the room, and though this had sometimes grated on Hitsugaya's nerves, he couldn't deny that the change took some getting used to.

At least Jiroubou no longer used meetings as an opportunity to hear himself pontificate, and Hitsugaya was grimly satisfied to think that the man's silence was partly his doing. Even though all of the officers had been promoted by one seat after Akita's departure, and this meant that Jiroubou was now occupying Hitsugaya's former fifth seat in addition to still sharing the same office space, Hitsugaya had managed to keep his interaction with the man to a tolerable minimum.

But he could have wished that Komamura were a little less fair and even-handed in his approach to promotions within the division, because he would have much preferred to see Etsuko Aru or Kentaro Yumiko jump a few seats into his workroom.

And it was that thought, as he flexed his fingers around his ink brush and tried to both ignore and subconsciously catalogue every word of Watari's numbing report on the training progress of the top squads, which brought to mind a possible solution to his problem. He had questions, and there _was _one person, he suddenly realized, that he wouldn't mind asking.

When the meeting ended and Komamura had departed, he gathered up his papers with unusual haste and slipped out the door before anyone else. He vaulted lightly over a walkway railing and cut across two courtyards and around several buildings in a quick route that he knew would land him directly in Yumiko's path as she headed to her own office. She always went there after meetings, just as he went to his own, and he knew that they were the only two officers to do so. Today would have to be an exception to their routine.

He used this as an opportunity to test his ability to mute his reiatsu. Unohana's comments on how tightly he kept his reiatsu in check while in the presence of others had surprised him; he thought he had been doing so good a job of it that no one would have _noticed _he was doing it.

_Why _he was doing it was not something he wanted to think of now, on top of everything else, and so he decided that this was merely something else he would need to add to the list of skills needing refinement through training.

Captains, after all, needed to keep their reiatsu under control at all times.

When Yumiko walked right past him without a hitch in her stride he wasn't sure whether to be satisfied with his own performance, or to criticize the dullness of her senses. But starting this conversation off with a criticism probably wasn't the best choice.

"Kentaro."

She spun about with a muttered curse of surprise, her hand moving automatically to a sword that wasn't there. Even a ninth seat officer had to heed the restrictions placed on the powerful and forego the wearing of swords in the Seireitei unless in training or on combat duty.

"Hitsugaya?" she said, narrow face made even sharper by the frown of bewilderment she wore as she watched him step out of the shadows and onto the floorboads of the walkway. "What are you… I mean… can I help you with something?"

"Yes. I need to speak with you privately."

"Privately? Is there a problem?"

"No. I just… " he struggled not to grit his teeth around the uncomfortable words, "… was hoping you mght help me with a… question."

He thought, for a brief second, that he saw her struggle with the flicker of a smile. But that, he told himself firmly, would have been wildly out of character for the normally stoic Yumiko, and since it was too late to back out of this now, he would much rather believe that he wasn't going to regret the whole affair.

"Of course, Hitsugaya-san. We could go to my office."

"No." He didn't want to risk someone overhearing them through the screens. He remembered the isolated sakura tree Watari had chosen for their conversation about Akita's promotion, and thought it could serve for privacy again. "We'll walk. Follow me."

A few people were enjoying the garden, but the man and woman standing close together under the sakura tree quickly split off in different directions when they saw their officers approaching. There were no rules prohibiting romantic relationships between members of the same division, but it was not something that a smart person would flaunt in the presence of their superiors, and Hitsugaya was glad that he had already developed enough of a reputation to scatter trysts on approach. It was so much easier than having to deal with them otherwise.

It did not even occur to him until later that his own atypical meeting with Yumiko under a blooming sakura tree in full view of everyone in the garden might paint the wrong image altogether. For the moment, all he cared about was that no one _overheard _them, and of that at least he was satisfied.

"Kentaro," he began, frowning off in the general direction of the garden's small pond and the water flowers drifting along its surface. "Do you remember our advanced lectures on zanpakutou technique?"

"Yes, of course," she said, shuffling her papers to keep them from the breeze's grasp, and eyeing him curiously. "But I can't imagine that I remember them any better than you. Your memory was always infallible."

He let the compliment pass unremarked. Statements of fact weren't worth commenting on, and he didn't like flattery.

"One of the documents sensei mentioned wasn't in the archive for study," he said. "He alluded to a history of the last four centuries' Captains, but I couldn't find it for reading. You're a member of a noble house, aren't you?"

"Only a minor one."

"More than me," he said with a shrug. "That sounds like the sort of history the noble houses would be familiar with."

"Well…" She frowned, still struggling with her papers. Fidgeting, really. Very unlike her. "I can't say I've ever read the historical record in question, but everyone hears stories and rumors and such. Was there something specific you wanted to know?"

He drew in a deep breath, his jaw tight, then finally nodded. "Yes. I want to know which Captain achieved bankai the fastest."

"Ban… kai?"

He shot her a quick, narrow glance, trying not to feel riled by her tone. She was staring at him now with widened eyes, and there was no doubt that she was leaping to hasty – and unfortuantely accurate – conclusions. The breeze snatched a paper out of fingers loosened by surprise, and she cursed, startled out of her shock, and reached hopelessly for it.

Hitsugaya snatched it out of the air with one quick movement before it could sail past him. "Oi," he growled as he thrust it back toward her, "be careful. Replicating reports is a pain."

"I'm sorry. Thank you. I was just… I'm sorry, but what did you want to know about bankai?"

"I want," he repeated slowly through clenched teeth, "to know which Captain achieved bankai the fastest."

"Well… I… I'm not sure."

He sighed. He'd expected better of Yumiko, really.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she straightened to her full and considerable height, as though towering over him could restore her dignity. He was willing to cede her the comfort this one time if it meant she'd give him the information he wanted.

"It isn't the sort of thing Captains let become common knowledge," she said more firmly. "Ten years is the standard, but some take more, and of course it's said it takes decades to fully master bankai's use."

"I know that," he said. "I know what's commonly said. I want to know what is _un_commonly said."

"Well that's not a very specific request. There are only rumors – "

"What are the rumors?"

He had only been in the Seireitei for a few years, and he knew that others forgot this fact easily, despite his status as a prodigy. He hadn't had time away from his work to gather rumors. Or anyone, really, to gather them from.

"They say that Zaraki-taichou hasn't even mastered bankai, for one."

"_That _I know."

"And they say that Kuchiki-taichou mastered his bankai long before he even became a Captain."

That was new to him, and it made Hitsugaya frown thoughtfully. It opened new possibilities, certainly. If he could pursue bankai for the thrill and accomplishment of it, just for the sake of bringing himself closer to Hyourinmaru's true power, and not have to worry about the side-effects of the pursuit…

"But if it's a rumor about who mastered bankai the fastest… I remember my uncles talking in whispers when I was a child about Urahara Kisuke…"

"Urahara Kisuke?" he asked sharply, his attention fully caught. He remembered the name from his studies as belonging to a former Captain of 12th Division, the founder of the Technological Development Bureau, but he hadn't heard much else about the man. His name had never once been brought up in class by teachers at the academy, and only the barest mentions in passing appeared in the archives available to students.

"Yes, he was the former – "

"Captain of the 12th, I know. What about his bankai?"

"Well, it was a long time ago, so I don't remember for certain, but from what I recall they were saying something about his achieving bankai in a matter of mere days."

"Days? That's… not possible."

"I know. So I must be remembering it wrong. But that's all I can think of." She fell silent, watching him pensively, and when he only continued to frown in thought she gripped her papers more tightly and said, "Hitsugaya… why do you…"

"Yumiko," he cut her off, and his use of her first name made her fall immediately silent in surprise, as he'd intended. "Dealing with rumors is frustrating enough as it is. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't let more baseless gossip spread just because I'm curious about the history of Gotei 13 captains."

Her thin lips pressed so tight that they almost vanished altogether, and for a moment he felt sorry for reminding her of the part she had previously played in starting rumors about him.

"I understand," she said, and bowed. "Is that all you needed of me, Hitsugaya-san?"

"Yes."

She bowed again and stepped out from under the sakura tree's shade, her back straight and her footsteps steady on her way back to the compound buildings.

Hitsugaya sighed again, and called out, "Kentaro, wait."

She turned, raising a hand to push her severe braid of hair behind her shoulder. "Yes, Hitsugaya-san?"

"Thank you for your help. You were… the only person I could think of to… ask."

For a moment he thought his reluctant words wouldn't be enough, and he really didn't want to have to make another attempt, so he was relieved when she smiled faintly and bowed again, this time more fluidly, accepting the apology he hadn't quite spoken.

"You are welcome. I look forward to seeing where your curiosity about history leads."

"Mn," was his eloquent and uncomfortable reply.

The conversation hadn't yielded quite the results he'd been hoping for, but it gave him something better in the end. He went through the rest of the day lost in thought, already anticipating what future research would uncover, and it was a good thing for Etsuko Aru, who foolishly stopped by the fourth seat's office that evening to peer in with a grin and say, "So Hitsugaya… you haven't grown a bit in the last month, have you, because I heard a very interesting rumor about you and Kentaro and sakura blossoms earlier today," that Hitsugaya was preoccupied enough to reward the comment with nothing more than an icy glare.

Etsuko quickly put up his hands and backed out of the doorway, but the bastard was still smiling as he went.

* * *

He had almost forgotten how it felt to have someone against whose legacy he might be measured, and the galvanizing effect it had on his resolve to improve his skills. Shiba Kaien had been that force for him at the academy, and now he had another name.

Seated officers had access to nearly every archive in the Seireitei, but even in these otherwise restricted sections it was difficult to find records of Urahara Kisuke. What he was able to find, however, painted a clear enough image to motivate him. Few documents said it outright, but reading between the lines it was obvious that Urahara Kisuke had been considered a true genius. Most documents spoke of his founding of the Research and Technology department, and of his accomplishments within it. But buried amidst accounts of his myriad of inventions now considered indispensible to Shinigami in the field, were the occasional references to his undisputed skill as a warrior.

No word, however, of his bankai.

Hitsugaya searched for a long time, but in the end his inability to learn anything concrete about Urahara Kisuke's bankai – or the time in which he achieved it – didn't really matter. He made the choice to believe that Yumiko's rumor was grounded at least partially in truth, because the idea of someone having come before him with such a reputation for genius was… comforting. Some might have seen it as a challenge, but Htisugaya couldn't help thinking it more of a relief. If he were to achieve bankai now, what could they say to him, really? How could they accuse him of moving too swiftly, with a record of _three days _as a precedent?

He had no interest in besting that record. But he was perfectly willing to set a lesser record of his own.

After a week's worth of research into the history of Urahara Kisuke and of bankai training in general – sparse though the written records of both proved to be – Hitsugaya felt ready at last to broach the issue openly with Hyourinmaru. His zanpakutou had not spoken with him since the battle with the Hollow, and had only recently begun to make its presence felt in its wielder's mind again.

When Hitsugaya took advantage of his weekly free day for training to leave the Seireitei in search of the most isolated patch of wilderness he could find, Hyourinmaru could sense the change in his mood, and the cold of the sword's slow awakening was sharp in the air.

Standing alone in a large clearing surrounded by dense trees, Hitsugaya shrugged out of his makeshift harness, drew his sword, and tossed the saya aside altogether. Both hands on the grip, he held the sword up, edge away from him, catching the barest reflection of his hair like a flash of snow in the narrow angles of the blade's spine.

"Hyourinmaru."

The sword seemed to tremble faintly in response, and an icy blue glow limned its edges.

"Will you walk this path with me?"

The glow intensified, and the temperature in the clearing dropped so quickly and so drastically that even he, immune as he usually was to cold, could feel it keenly.

"Will you give me this chance?"

The dragon uncoiled in his chest at last, and the familiar voice echoed in his mind.

**_Do you know the full meaning of what you are asking?_**

With anyone else, even with Hinamori – and perhaps _especially_ with Hinamori, he realized, with a touch of sadness he did not have the time or inclination to further examine – he would have shrugged off the question with calm, confident assurance.

But he could not lie to Hyourinmaru.

"Maybe not. I'll need you to teach me."

**_What you ask cannot be taught. What you ask can only be earned. _**

"I'll earn it."

The dragon laughed its rare, hissing laugh, and Hitsugaya was relieved to hear it again after so many days of silence between them.

**_Confidence is the first step. But for you, there will be others. _**

"And for you?"

**_I have already made my choice. You are my choice. When you understand why I have chosen you, then you will understand what I can give you._**

He nodded, as much in acknowledgement of what he _didn't _yet understand as of the dragon's words.

**_Together, we can cover this forest in ice. _**

He nodded again, and, with no one around to see, allowed himself a grin.

**_But not until you can put out your hand and touch my body made flesh will you be able to reach for bankai, and this you must be able to do alone. When I can meet you eye to eye, we may truly begin. _**

"Then let's get started."

A sudden blast of cold power from the sword in his hands pushed his hair back like a storm wind, and lightning skittered around the clearing, cracking leaves in an acrid green haze.

**_As you wish. _**

He had thought he understood the strength of his zanpakutou.

It did not take him long to unlearn that arrogant assumption.

* * *

He'd feared that finding the time to train for bankai would be the hardest thing to manage, but at least in the first few months it was the furthest worry from his mind. Once a week was all he could handle without revealing what he was doing to everyone in the division by showing up to each meeting and mission looking like he'd just been sat on by Jidanbou.

He was exhausted after each training day, but that he could hide. Not as easy to hide were the injuries. Small though a cut or bruise might be, it was the first time he had ever taken consistent injury, in training or in battle, and the people around him noticed every scratch.

"Hitsugaya," Watari said to him one day, at their meeting with Vice Captain Imada, "what have you been up to lately? I've never seen you injured before."

"Training exercises," he said blandly. "What else would I be up to?"

"Eh?" Imada raised his eyebrows, pausing in the veritable demolition of his inkstick. Talented though he was at combat, his writing skills left something to be desired. "It must be some sort of training to injure _you. _Have you been forgetting to include Hollow sightings in your reports, Hitsugaya-kun?"

"Of course I haven't," he growled. "Since when does a man have to share the details of his personal training with others?"

"No offense meant, Hitsugaya-san, I assure you," Watari said quickly, raising his hands. "I was just surprised to see you injured, that's all."

"It's nothing. No need to concern yourself."

"Well, perhaps Watari shouldn't," Imada went on, giving up on the inkstick and moving on to disorganzing all of the paperwork Hitsugaya had just placed on his desk in neat piles. "But as your Vice Captain, it is my duty to concern myself. If you're not careful, I'll have to order you to report to Unohana-taichou again."

"I'm _fine_. More importantly, don't we have other things to be discussing at this meeting?"

As the months went on, the surface injuries became less noticeable. He had traded them in for a deeper weariness, but also a sense of progress. He had not yet managed to force Hyourinmaru to fully manifest, but that did not bother him. He was learning more about his zanpakutou by pushing himself toward bankai than he had in all three years since he'd first held the sword in his hands. Bankai itself was no longer the goal that drove him, but merely the means by which he could discover the truth of Hyourinmaru.

He knew that the most powerful zanpakutou often revealed a variety of unique techniques to their wielders. Having achieved shikai, many Shinigami could execute several named attacks shaped by the individual abilities of their swords, and the material he had managed to find in the archives suggested that this might be true of bankai level power as well.

He had never worried that Hyourinmaru had taught him no such attacks, because no battle he had ever faced had required more than shikai to ensure victory. Learning to completely master the power of his shikai alone had taken up all of his time and effort, and even now, as he tried to reach beyond that, he knew that he still had not fully mastered Hyourinmaru's first stage of release. Indeed, much of his training now, though materialization was always in his mind, still involved working with Hyourinmaru's shikai, getting to know every facet and quirk, learning how to bring out all of its power and potential.

He had to move training location often. The clearings simply didn't last.

It wasn't until six months after he began that Hinamori saw him on a morning after his training day. In all those months he had seen her only twice, always in passing, and this time was no exception. He was on his way back from 4th Division's compound, after requesting a few healing supplies that he could stash secretly in his bedroom, when he heard her calling his name.

"Hitsugaya-kun! Hitsugaya-kun!"

There was no mistaking Hinamori's voice. He thought he would recognize it even in sleep, even unconscious. After all, there had been a time – though it felt like so long ago now – when she had woken him from sleep using just that tone of voice, to tell him that she'd had a nightmare that he'd been attacked by monsters and that she _had_ to come all the way from the girls' room just to make sure he was all right. He'd recognized her voice then instantly, even in his dreams.

Unfortunately, this time she had not crept over alone in the privacy of the night, but was dashing across a wide open street, with Vice Captain Ise trailing behind her.

"Did you just come from 4th Division, Hitsugaya-kun? You aren't sick, are you?"

"No, of course not. Hinamori! Do you have to run and shout like that?"

"Only when I'm worried!" she insisted loudly, then leaned forward to peer intently into his face. "Eh, Hitsugaya-kun, you don't look well. You _are _sick, aren't you?"

"No! Hinamori, you…" he broke off as Ise Nanao caught up with them, and he gave her a brief nod. "Ise-fukutaichou."

"Hitsugaya-san," she said calmly. "It has been a few years now. I hear you are doing well." She looked exactly the same as she had on the night of his final student exercise.

"Ah no, look at him!" Hinamori insisted, putting her hands on her slender hips. "He doesn't look like he's doing well at all!"

"Like you should be one to talk, Hinamori," he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his cool. "You looked pretty terrible when you were training too – "

"Eh, training?" she said quickly.

He shut up, shooting her a frustrated glare. She could always get him to say the stupidest things.

Ise surveyed them both with inscrutable calm, and said nothing.

"Just what are you training so hard for, then?" Hinamori persisted, and this time when she leaned toward him she smiled. "Don't tell me this means you want to be a Vice Captain like me, Hitsugaya-kun."

"No," he said, with the cool conviction of honesty. "I'm not training to be a Vice Captain."

Ise Nanao's eyes were locked on him alone now, and he was careful not to meet her gaze. Hinamori, however, seemed not to notice.

"But maybe you should! I bet you could do it, in just a few more years! You're a genius, after all, right Shiro-chan?" She smiled, unabashed and painfully honest in her compliment, and when she reached out – probably not even conscious of her own actions – to pat him on the head as she had so often done when they were children, Hitsugaya was caught for a moment between wanting to move, and wanting to allow her the gesture.

But they were not alone, and so he moved. One shunpo put him safely behind her, and she blinked, her hand stretched out to empty air, then spun around and laughed.

"See? That's what I mean!"

"Hinamori. Just worry about your own duties, and leave me to mine."

"Speaking of duties," Ise Nanao interjected, carefully pushing her glasses more firmly into place.

"Yes, I almost forgot! Don't work too hard, Hitsugaya-kun!"

"Moron," he muttered, but she was already too far away to hear him.

"I hope you're not talking about Ise-fukutaichou."

Instant frustration with his own inability to have sensed someone coming up behind him helped to keep any surprised motions in check, and Hitsugaya turned slowly, eyes narrowed, to find Akita Sachio standing only a few paces away.

"Because if you were," Akita went on through a slight grin, "then she'll probably condemn me by association and I really don't want to be on the receiving end of her response."

"I wasn't. What are you doing here?"

"That's what I was about to ask you," Akita replied, closing the remaining distance between them. "Looks like you just came from 4th Division."

Nothing in Akita's outward appearance would have revealed to anyone who did not know him that he was now a Vice Captain, no longer 7th Division's comfortable and casual third seat. His dark hair was still tied back in its warrior's tail, his clothing unadorned by any field insignia to betray his rank. But just a moment's observation was enough even for Hitsugaya, who had never known the man well to begin with, to note changes. Small, but telling. His sleeves were no longer rumpled from too many stolen naps in corners, and the shadows under his eyes from too many long nights drinking at neighboring 8th Division's compound were absent. But most striking of all was the change – difficult to pinpoint but undeniable – in his eyes, in the slight hint of strain around his smile.

He took Hitsugaya's lack of immediate response in his old stride, however.

"I hope that doesn't mean you're injured," he said, "but I'd be surprised if you were, and you _look_ fine anyway. Might even have grown a little bit."

Htisugaya worked hard to keep his scowl under control. "You don't look injured either."

"So why am I heading toward 4th Division myself? Heh. Good question. Unfortunately," he said with a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, and the weariness in the gesture did not seem feigned for show, "I'm on my way to pick up some of our division members who had a little too much fun with their sake last night, and were stupid enough to catcall some 11th Division rookies with friends. But they're going to think _that _was bliss after what _I_ do to them."

"Mm," was all he said in reply, not trusting himself to think of words that wouldn't involve expressing dry amazement for this change in circumstance. He could still all too clearly recall how many times his fifth seat damage reports had cited Akita as a guilty party in just this sort of offense.

But either his expression betrayed him, or Akita knew him better than he would have thought, because the man gave a sheepish sort of grin and shrugged.

"You're thinking that not too long ago that would have been me, I know. But not too long ago I didn't have to explain to Kuchiki-taichou why Zaraki's pink-haired menace had a right to visit us with a message to pick up our trash."

"You have some interesting counterparts to deal with now, that's true," Hitsugaya conceded, an eyebrow raised in vague amusement at the thought of Akita trying to fend off Zaraki's infamous Vice Captain. He'd fortunately not had cause to interact with her himself, and hoped to keep it that way. Even if it might be nice not to be the shortest person in the room for once.

"Not least of whom include Hinamori-chan, eh?"

Amusement evaporated like so much mist, and Hitsugaya had to remind himself that this was Akita, who always talked before thinking, and that he at least ought to wait for elaboration before deciding what he'd have to do in response.

Akita gave him a suddenly sharp look, and he raised a hand quickly in a calming gesture.

"Hey now, that's one hell of a spike in reiatsu. It's not necessary, I promise. No disrespect meant to Hinamori-kun or yourself. She's asked about you at meetings, that's all. Wanted to know all about your work and how happy you were in the 7th and that sort of thing. I told her you're a genius, and constantly made all the rest of us look bad, but that you'd probably have more luck getting a rock to smile. She just laughed and said it sounded like you were feeling as cheery as usual, and I was relieved to learn that it wasn't just that you hated my guts all along."

Hitsugaya looked away uncomfortably, but figured that enough of an apology was in order to merit a reply. "No," he said. "There are plenty of people I hated much more."

Akita laughed. "Well that's good to know, isn't it? Anyway, I hear you're fourth seat now, but frankly I don't think that's going to last. When are you going to face up to truth and start preparing for a Vice Captain's exam? You know the 13th is _still _missing a second seat, and the 10th is – "

"I'm not interested in the Vice Captain's exam," he insisted.

"That so? Well, no use my trying to convince you. Maybe yours is the smarter choice, really. Can't say as I have much free time anymore these days. And you don't even want to know the nightmares you start to have as Kuchiki-taichou's second. And now that I've been foolish enough to say that out loud, my life is in your hands."

Normally Hitsugaya would have rewarded that speech with a cool snort, but there was surprisingly little levity in Akita's tone as he spoke, and his smile looked decidedly forced. "Is he that much stricter than Komamura?" he asked instead.

"He's… well… he's Kuchiki. I was expecting it, but I guess there's really no way you can fully prepare." Akita stiffened suddenly, pushing his shoulders back, a fierce and unmistakable pride in his expression. "But every other rumor you hear about him is also true. He's my Captain. You give your life to your Captain. I never realized that was there, when I watched Imada with Komamura-taichou. But I get it now."

Then Akita's hardened expression crumbled as swiftly as it had appeared; he seemed to realize suddenly that he was saying all this to a relative stranger.

"Eh, you'll have to excuse me. It's been a long morning already, and I'm running late. I should get going and collect those idiots. You take it easy, Hitsugaya. And make sure you move yourself up to third seat _at least, _or I'll be disappointed." He strode off then, waving over his shoulder as he went. "And I still say you've grown."

Hitsugaya let out a weary sigh through his teeth, but stood watching Akita disappear into the 4th Division compound with a thoughtful frown. He continued to ponder Akita's words as he turned and headed back to the 7th and his work.

_He's my Captain. _

Hitsugaya respected Komamura. What he'd said to Hinamori a year ago on the eve of her promotion was true – he didn't want any other Captain.

But a loyalty that went deeper than duty and respect?

_You give your life to your Captain._

He hadn't ever stopped to think about the depth of Imada's devotion to Komamura either, but he was suddenly sure – remembering every meeting, thinking of how Imada would stand whenever he was at Komamura's side overseeing training – that Imada _did _feel that his life belonged to his Captain.

It was a part of a Captain's burden that Hitsugaya had not before considered, and bankai seemed suddenly more complicated than he'd already believed.

* * *

As time went on, it was difficult to say what played the greater part in hampering his progress, or if he would have progressed more quickly at all had circumstances been different.

Lessons learned from his academy days would always stay with him, ensuring that he sacrificed whatever time was necessary in order to fulfill to perfection any duty given him, no detail left unaddressed, no opportunities allowed for criticism on age or inexperience. This too often cut into time he might otherwise have devoted to training, but he never let weariness become an excuse to avoid training when the time for it could be found.

Yet nearly two years after making the decision to train for bankai he had still not achieved manifestation, and he knew in his gut that it was not a question of skill.

Most of the reasons for his lack of progress towards bankai were easy to identify, and he wasn't ashamed of them. Those two years of hard training had finally brought him to the point where he felt that control of his shikai was almost total. The ice dragon could now reach speeds that, if directed properly, even surpassed the movements of the sword itself. The speed with which he could shift water to ice was now almost instantaneous. And his control over the weather, which had always seemed the most susceptible to any shift in his subconscious, was now almost perfect in any circumstance. Finally understanding the subtle complexities of mastering Hyourinamru's shikai would have been well worth two years' training, even had there been no other goal in mind.

And as for his other work interfering wih training… well, putting duty before ambition met the needs of his pride, even if it also tried his patience.

But he knew, as well as he now knew every inch of his sword, that there was another reason for his lack of progress towards bankai. And as hard it was to acknolwedge this, it was even harder to comprehend it. He was determined to be honest with himself, but even that couldn't unveil all mysteries. Especially where Hyourinmaru was concerned.

Though far from complete, training for bankai _had _deepened his rapport with his zanpakutou, and he found that he could now speak with Hyourinmaru without a need for the dragon's visual presence, even if that presence was visible to him alone. It was known that not all Shinigami could attain such an intimate rapport with their zanpakutou's spirit, and he was pleased – though not surprised – to find that he could.

Certainly the ability to speak with Hyourimaru without calling the dragon out had its benefits, for while he had not yet managed full manifestation, he knew that he had at least begun pushing the limits; others kept looking around anxiously as if catching sight of something out of the corner of their eye whenever they drew near him while Hyourinmaru was awake.

Being able to converse with the dragon while the sword itself remained sealed allowed him Hyourinmaru's company while still leaving the surrounding spirit energies relatively undisturbed.

This proved especially welcome when, for the first time since becoming a fourth seat officer, he was ordered to accompany a team on a mortal world mission – something the higher level seated officers rarely found themselves doing. And since he'd started his work as a Shinigami straight off as a member of those higher ranks, he could count the number of his mortal world missions on fingers alone. He'd performed more soul burials during his accelerated training at the academy than in all four years since then, and he was perfectly content with that ratio, since killing Hollows had always come easier to him than soothing spirits.

But this was a mission that could not be avoided. A series of disasters had killed a large number of people in a small area, all within a few days. The resulting high concentration of new plus spirits was sure to attract a whole mess of Hollows unless the matter was dealt with very swiftly, and Imada had ordered two of 7th Division's best squads to a night's hard work. All that was left was an officer to oversee them.

"Wouldn't Watari be better for this?" Hitsugaya had asked, in the privacy of Imada's office where no one else could overhear.

"Kazuo is better at soul burials, it's true," Imada had said so matter-of-factly that Hitsugaya couldn't even take offense. "But he doesn't have your senses. I don't want you there to find souls or organize the men, I want you there to feel for Hollows and make sure we don't get excuses for why one wayward soul or another got missed. Half of the men in the top squads now have all trained under you at one point, and they know better than to try to sell you stories."

For the first time, Hitsugaya wasn't entirely sure he was happy with Imada's analysis of the way people viewed him. He told himself there wasn't time to dwell on it, however, and so a passage through the gateway and a few hours later found him sitting on a metal beam of a structure he thought the humans called the Tokyo Tower, high above the lights and shadows of a city defying sleep even in the dead of night, his senses open to any sign of disturbance.

His radar sat, active and occasionally beeping quietly, on the beam beside him. He let one foot hang down over open air while the bent knee of his other leg offered him a perch for crossed arms. Chin resting on the back of his top wrist, Hitsugaya kept his eyes half closed, muting the glow of the tower's many lights around him into a golden haze in the night darkness, and pondered questions of bankai while waiting for any message to come in from his squads, or any sign of a Hollow to tickle his senses.

When Hyourinmaru's voice tingled through his body, he was glad for the dragon's company, even though the zanpakutou's spirit did not choose now to show itself.

**_You are afraid._**

At another time he might have bristled, but tonight he was seeking answers, and Hyourinmaru's words struck too close to unacknowledged truth to be denied. Hitsugaya said nothing for a long while, merely stared half blind into the night sky, letting the breeze tease through his hair.

Finally he sighed, and spoke without lifting his chin from his arms. "But of what?"

**_I cannot tell you._**

"Can't? Or won't?"

**_If you can ask that question, then you already know the answer. _**

He sighed again, knowing it was true. Hyourinmaru knew him better than he knew himself. That was the whole problem, wasn't it?

**_Our time has not been wasted._**

"No," he agreed. "I don't regret it."

**_Nor do I. But if you continue in this vein much longer, you will wander from the path completely. You cannot offer a challenge, and then hesitate to meet it. A dragon, once wakened, is not to be ignored. _**

The message was clear, but he knew his zanpakutou well by now, and he could hear a certain fondness beneath the words. Fond _exasperation, _perhaps, but that was fine. Hyourinmaru had nothing on him when it came to irritation.

**_Fear is not your nature,_** Hyourinmaru added after another stretch of silence.

"There's no point to fear."

**_Not for us. And yet there is one fear from which you cannot seem to free yourself. Why? _**

Hitsugaya frowned. But no answer came to him.

**_You know what is required to achieve bankai. _**

There was no point answering that one. Of course he knew. He'd spent the last two years tearing through every archive he could get into in addition to his training, and between research and sweat and instinct he knew exactly what was required.

**_Is it your ability to dominate me that you doubt? Or is it the thought of my subservience that disturbs you?_**

"What kind of question is that?" he muttered irritably, frown deepening into a scowl.

**_A pertinent one, Toushiro. _**

He could not remember the last time Hyourinmaru had addressed him by name, and it made him snort in spite of himself, half laughter half annoyance.

**_Face this fear. It doesn't suit you. _**

"I know."

**_It hinders you. It will prove your weakness forever if you cannot face and conquer it now._**

"I _know._"

The dragon rumbled, a muted roar of frustration, and Hitsugaya felt his whole body shudder with it.

The shudder that passed through him a heartbeat later was of a different kind, and he lifted his chin from his arms immediately, reaching for the radar to verify what his senses were telling him. A second later a blip appeard on the screen, and identification markers scrolled into the top right corner. A Hollow. Two quick taps of his thumb brought up the locations of his squad members. None were closer to the target than he was.

"Good," he murmured.

**_Distracting yourself from the issue will not make it disappear. _**

"You picked one hell of a time to be talkative."

**_And you picked an inconvenient time to practice deafness. _**

He grinned in spite of himself as he pulled in his dangling leg and stood, tucking the radar into his clothes, against his skin. "Guess it just proves we're suited to each other."

**_Yes,_** the dragon said, and there was a strange weight to the reply, at odds with the tone the conversation had taken in a way that Hitsugaya did not have the time right now to examine.

He scanned the city below him, overlaying it in his mind's eye with the map of the radar's grid, finally pinpointing the area in which the Hollow should appear. Then he stepped backward off the beam, using the latticework of the tower's interior as a stairway for his descent, leaping from metal spar to metal spar. When he came level with the nearest building, he sprinted to the tower's sloping outer edge and pushed off with a long shunpo – a stretch even for him, as distance was the hardest thing to master in fast movement once the speed was sure – and was pleased when it landed him securely on the building's flat rooftop.

After that it was simple to navigate the city. Rooftop to rooftop, touching on the occasional tree in between when gaps were too large to jump easily, and the lights and the oblivious humans below flashed by in blurs of color and motion. The sound of air rushing by him was louder than all of their bustle. That, and the slowly building moan of a Hollow as he drew nearer to his target.

When he came upon it at last, he was almost disappointed to see how small it was. Little more than a human in size, with long dangling arms and a long narrow jaw, the Hollow barely had time to sense his approach before Hitsugaya fell on it from above. Hyourinmaru flashed in the unnatural green light shed by a nearby sign, and the Hollow's mask split in two, its body already beginning its slow dissolve before Hitsugaya's feet had even touched the ground.

He sighed, blade still in hand as he turned in place in the narrow, empty street, stretching his senses for any sign of a second Hollow. But there was nothing. Only a plus spirit hovering anxiously at the end of the street, saved from a Hollow's hunger.

The spirit, a young woman, her hair in disarray and her feet bare under her plain skirt, as though death had caught her unawares in the middle of preparing for bed, flinched away from him as he approached with his sword in hand.

"Don't worry," he said, but clearly hadn't managed to sound particularly reassuring, since she only flinched again at the sound of his voice. He tried not to feel irritated. He was really no good at this. He wanted to say, _Look, you're already dead, what more do you think I can do to you? _Except that he knew better. He knew how she would react, and he knew, far better than she did, just how much a soul _did _have to fear. So he just said again, "Don't worry. I'm here to help you."

She stood frozen now, the grubby building wall visible through the vague shimmer of her body, and watched him from behind a wispy curtain of dark hair like an animal at bay, too frightened to move.

"I'm going to send you on," he said, doing his best to sound reassuring, and held his left hand out, palm up, moving it slowly toward her face so that she could see his motion and intent. She was a bit taller than him, but not by much, and an easy flick of his fingers pushed her hair away from her forehead.

Immediately he wished he had refrained from the gesture, that he had just pushed through to skin with Hyourinmaru's pommel alone, because her eyes, now unscreened by black hair, were wide and deep and rich in color and looked so much like Momo's eyes that his breath caught and for a moment he couldn't move.

**_This._**

He dropped his hand, and a few strands of her hair fell back over her wide gaze, but it was already too late. He was too close, and though apart from the eyes the faces were nothing alike, all he could see in her now was Momo. Watching him like a stranger.

**_This is what you fear. _**

He clenched his teeth, wishing for the first time ever that Hyourimaru would fall silent, would leave his mind. But the dragon only coiled inside of him, more restless than at any point in the night yet.

**_You fear losing her, that she is already lost, and the depth of that fear is what frightens you the most. _**

"Who…" the spirit finally spoke, her voice small and hesitant, little more than a whisper. "Who are you? What are you going to do to me?"

**_And you fear losing me. It is the same fear. You fear that my complete surrender to you means that you will lose your only other – _**

He spoke, louder than was necessary, cutting off Hyourinmaru's words in his mind, even though he knew exactly how the speech was meant to end.

"I'm sending you on," he said again. He steeled his heart to ignore that irrational association with Hinamori – it _wasn't _Hinamori – just a stranger – just another soul that he would never see after this – and snapped his sword tip back, bringing the tuska up, and stamped the girl's forehead with the sign of her passage. The pool of light opened beneath her instantly, and Hitsugaya stepped back, grinding his teeth, forcing himself to watch her burial through to the end.

But Hyourinmaru was not to be silenced.

**_I am not a friend, Hitsugaya Toushiro. _**

His jaw was clenched so tight that already a dull pain was shooting up into his temples. He returned the sword to its sheath with a sharp snap of metal meeting the mouth of the saya, but the command in the motion was wasted on the spirit within the weapon.

**_I will never be a friend. You do not befriend a dragon. _**

Hitsugaya turned on his heel and stalked to the edge of the street, jumping back to the rooftops in defiant silence, wishing that silencing the voice in his mind could be as simple as plugging his ears.

**_But I am more. Listen. You know this. It is time to understand it. _**

He was listening. He didn't have a choice.

And maybe it was time to hear it, after all.

**_Claim me, and I will be the blood in your veins. I will be closer to you than a friend or a comrade in arms could ever be, for those are not my roles. You fear to lose something, but you have only something to gain. Claim me, and we will be one, not separate. And together we can fight anything that might threaten you with loss. _**

Still he said nothing, but now it was not anger that held his tongue.

Hyourinmaru's words were opening a path in his mind, shining blue and white like ice through darkness, illuminating doubts he had not wanted to see clearly, and offering him a way through them all.

**_Remember, Hitsugaya. Remember what it means to take your place in the sky. _**

A path. But a dark gap between him and its beginning.

Fear or doubt or impatience – whatever it was, it would not let him remember what Hyourinmaru so clearly thought he ought to know.

When the squads gathered hours later, their work done, not a Shinigami among them, after taking one look at their fourth seat officer's expression, dared to speak a word beyond those required to report, and the hellmoths escorted an anxiously silent procession back to Soul Society.


	4. Part Four: Winter Dragon

_Author's Note: I'm just going to give up on trying to estimate how many chapters this thing is going to be. I sat on this chapter for two weeks, trying to write follow-up scenes in a way that worked and still flowed with the action, because I had told myself that chapter four had to reach a certain point. Well, I give up. It will be what it chooses to be. At this rate, it will never end, and Matsumoto is going to barge into my house and start whining about her non-existent screentime any day now. Ah well._

* * *

**FROZEN SKY **

Part Four: Winter Dragon

The headache which had begun on the night of his mortal world mission refused to die. Days later, it pounded through his temples mercilessly, and he was about ready to snap.

It was not, all things considered, the best condition in which to be overseeing the training of the division's newest members.

Especially not when Komamura was doing one of his rare observations.

Hitsugaya ground his teeth – an expression of the frustration that was his new closest companion, and the habit no doubt responsible for his continuing headache in the first place. But he couldn't seem to stop himself.

On the opposite side of the training yard, Komamura stood like a giant statue, his helmet fixed – as unmoving as his limbs – on the men and women training before him. Imada had broken away from him to take a direct hand in the afternoon's training, an unusual choice that gave Hitsugaya reason to be grateful, as it was allowing him to stay on the sidelines.

Watari came up beside him now, giving him a frown. "You don't look well," he said.

"No need to comment on it."

"You don't sound well either," he replied, unflappable as always.

"Watari. I really don't feel like talking right now."

"Ah."

There was a pause, and though he would have preferred standing here alone at least silent company was tolerable.

But then Watari added, "Unfortunately, I don't think you're going to have a choice about that."

"What?"

"The Captain is beckoning for you."

Watari was right, and just to make matters more difficult, Komamura was no longer alone. The rank of the man standing beside him was betrayed by white fabric, and even unable to see the division insignia Hitsugaya recognized the 13th Division's Captain.

He had never formally met the man, or even seen him near any of the seated officer meetings he had been forced to attend over the last few years. Though he had spoken directly to very few of the Captains in the Gotei 13, he had at least seen most of them in passing at one time or another. Ukitake Jyuushiro, however, was known to suffer from illness, and so managed to avoid meetings that even the other Captains could not entirely ignore. Hitsugaya was not familiar with the man's face, but there was no way the person standing beside Komamura now could be anyone else. He tried to ignore rumors as a rule, but not when they came to Captains, and there weren't quite enough white-haired Shinigami about to avoid comment. Hitsugaya knew that very well.

He had no idea what Ukitake was doing here, or why Komamura should be beckoning him over, but there was nothing he could do save to obey, and so he moved along the edges of the training yard, trying not to draw attention to himself as he approached the two Captains. He bowed on reaching them, stiff but proper.

"Komamura-taichou. Ukitake-taichou."

"Hitsugaya," Komamura said. "Ukitake wishes to ask you some questions."

Hitsugaya turned to the 13th's Captain, his eyebrows raised, and waited.

Ukitake laughed sheepishly, raising a hand briefly to his temple. "Well, not a question exactly. Not an interrogation, at least. I was just speaking to a subordinate of mine the other day, whose zanpakutou is of the ice elemental family, and naturally word of your own zanpakutou arose in the discussion. I've heard quite a bit about it."

His first instinct was to reply with something dismissive that might put an end to the conversation as quickly as possible. But this was a Captain. A neutral, "I see," was the best he could manage on the spot.

Ukitake seemed unfazed. If anything, his cheerful demeanor, though still touched by a hint of sheepishness, intensified. It was hard to imagine the man as sickly. How could anyone that ill put so much energy into smiling?

"I have to confess that I'm curious. I too often am, they tell me. Gets me into all sorts of trouble. I was hoping that I might get to see your zanpakutou in action during your division's training exercises today."

"I don't release my zanpakutou in division training exercises," Hitsugaya replied flatly.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Komamura interjected. "I believe he has made the correct choice. Newer recruits training at this level do not benefit from being overwhelmed."

"Ah, I see." Ukitake's eyebrows rose, and he fixed Hitsugaya with an appraising look. "I have to admit that only makes me more curious. What have you heard, Hitsugaya-kun, about - "

But a loud exclamation from the rear of the yard snapped Ukitake's head around in mid-sentence, as it did Komamura's, and nearly everyone else within hearing who was not engaged in blocking a descending sword in spar.

"_What?_"

Hitsugaya tracked the sound, pinpointing the disturbance easily. A cluster of people were already gathered around a young man who was standing bent over with his hands on his knees, as though to catch his breath from a long run. Imada and Watari were already cutting through the crowd to reach him.

"Are you sure?" someone was asking loudly, while another voice said, "It can't be true!"

A few words from Watari, too quiet to overhear at a distance, scattered part of the gathering crowd; Imada's broad shoulders took care of the rest. They reached the exhausted young man and he immediately tried to stand straighter, turning to face his Vice Captain. Hitsugaya watched curiously, but he was too far away to clearly make out the movements of the young man's lips. Yet even at a distance, the color draining from Imada's face was plain to see.

Komamura began walking toward him then, and Hitsugaya followed. Ukitake came behind, and perhaps concern put a spike into his reiatsu, because Hitsugaya was suddenly aware of its increased pressure at his back, and in a flash he remembered a night two years ago when a powerful reiatsu had hovered outside the room in which Unohana had examined him. He had not known the person's identity then; it was revealed to him now.

But it didn't matter. There were other things to think about at the moment.

"Imada," Komamura said, his shadow falling over Vice Captain and weary young Shinigami both as he stopped beside them. "What is going on?"

Imada opened his mouth as though to reply, then shut it again, shaking his head, and looked to the younger man. "Tell all that you know, Takahashi," he instructed.

Takahashi swallowed, pushing his hair back from a sweat-dampened forehead to meet his Captain's gaze. "Taichou. I was just passing by the medical center when I saw… when I heard… they say that there was an incident… an arrest of some rogue Shinigami… and that Akita Sachio was k-killed, sir."

"Akita," Komamura echoed, not quite a question.

Hitsugaya, standing level with Komamura's huge hands, noticed a very slight closing of those gauntleted fingers.

His own hands, he realized suddenly, had closed into full fists.

He hadn't heard anything about recent troubles with rogue Shinigami.

He hadn't heard anything about recent troubles great enough to kill a Vice Captain.

"Are you sure of this rumor?" Ukitake asked, and all hints of cheer or sheepishness were gone now, his voice somber, his expression cool and refined.

"Yes, taichou," Takahashi replied, then stammered, "At least, I'm sure of what I heard. But there were so many 6th Division members there, and some of them had just been released from treatment, and they said they were there when it happened."

"Was Kuchiki-taichou there?" Ukitake asked.

Takahashi's expression hardened, and he seemed for a moment to forget both weariness and the presence of two Captains. "No. They said that he refused to come."

Hitsugaya frowned, his hands clenched tight, and wanted to snap at the man to speak more clearly. Refused to come to the hospital, or to the battle?

But somehow he had ended up standing between Komamura and Ukitake, and was acutely aware of the swift glance exchanged at that moment just over his head; it silenced any words he might have spoken. Komamura's expression was hidden as always behind his helmet, but the slight motion of his head betrayed the exchange. Ukitake's gaze, though his expression remained calm, had a knowing light to it, and there was a tightness – almost a sadness – around his eyes. Hitsugaya's senses fairly burned with awareness of the sharpening edge of Captain level reiatsu around him.

And even amidst all his other thoughts, he couldn't help but notice that his headache had vanished.

He recalled with sudden clarity how a similar pain had once been swept away by the awakening, at last, of his zanpakutou. And thinking it he realized just as suddenly that the shock of hearing that Akita was dead had snapped his usual discipline, and he had completely released control of his reiatsu.

His headache was gone.

And not all of the sharp taste of power in the air belonged to the men beside him.

"Takahashi," Komamura said. "Calm yourself. Go inside with Imada, and tell him all you heard. Watari."

"Yes, taichou?"

"See to it that the men resume their training."

"Yes, taichou."

"Ukitake."

"Yes," Ukitake nodded. "Let's go."

Komamura set off, and his subordinates parted to let him pass like water moving around a rock. Ukitake fell into step beside him, matching Komamura's longer strides with an ease befitting a Captain. But he glanced back once as he went, and Hitsugaya caught his thoughtful gaze.

Then they were gone, and Hitsugaya found himself standing motionless as those around him scattered – back to training under Watari's orders, or to pass the word on in murmurs, or to trail after Imada and Takahashi as they left the courtyard.

He was acutely conscious of the fact that Komamura had not given him an order, had not instructed him in any way to assist in calming the division. Ukitake had clearly noticed it as well. Hitsugaya was not yet sure what to make of it.

At the moment he wanted nothing more than the freedom to go with the two Captains who were, he was certain, on their way to 4th Division's compound, where they would not have to rely on rumor, where they could seek the answer to whatever question or suspicion had passed wordlessly between them when Kuchiki's name was spoken.

Akita was dead, and Hitsugaya wanted those answers for himself.

He had seen subordinates killed in the field already, had compiled lists of casualties from squads he himself had trained. But this was the first time death had claimed someone who he had, he realized now, only after the fact, truly considered a peer.

_You give your life to your Captain_, Akita had said, speaking in a changed voice, smiling in a new way, and Hitsugaya wondered now if he had done just that.

* * *

It would have been impossible to avoid rumors during the following week even if he'd wanted to, and for the first time in his life Hitsugaya did not want to. Word moved swiftly through 7th Division, where the memory of Akita's presence was still fresh. Old friends were grieving his loss.

And because they were grieving, even Imada said that a certain amount of deafness could be employed on the part of the division's seated officers in regards to commentary on a Gotei 13 Captain. At least for a few days. _Only _for a few days.

Years later, Hitsugaya would come to understand a great many things more clearly. About Kuchiki Byakuya. About a Captain's duty, and a Captain's prerogatives.

But in the days following Akita's death, the whispers he was hearing had an affect on him like knives shearing off the rough borders of his private doubts and feelings, leaving behind edges sharp and smooth – honing the edge of a new resolve.

They said that 6th Division had been working with the Keigun Brigade to hunt a dangerous pair of rogue Shinigami for months. Some said that the criminals had been attempting to train a private cabal of souls from Rukongai with high spirit levels, but no one could speak to that part of the rumor with certainty. They said that a plan had gone unexpectedly wrong, and when the emergency call came Akita responded, against the plan, against his orders.

They said that when Kuchiki Byakuya heard his Vice Captain had gone, he had refused to follow.

_He chose his failure,_ were the words Kuchiki was rumored to have spoken.

_He's my Captain, _Akita had said.

Though people were gathering in pairs or small groups all over the division compound to discuss rumors or memories, the only time someone came to Hitsugaya for a private conversation on the issue was when Imada pulled him aside to discuss how they intended to handle any delinquent behavior that might result in the division.

Perhaps this would not have bothered him, if Hyourinmaru's words were not still as fresh in his mind as anything Akita had said.

_I am not a friend. _

Hitsugaya knew he could speak his thoughts to Hyourinmaru if he truly needed the release, but the memory of those words stopped him every time. Hyourinmaru would listen, but what did the dragon care for doubts or regrets that had nothing to do with the bond they shared? Hyourinmaru was his will to fight and his power to destroy made manifest. Not a friend.

And yet who else was there?

He thought of going to visit Jidanbou, but decided against it. He could hardly understand his own feelings, let alone put them into the carefully chosen words that explanations to Jidanbou too often required. Jidanbou had been a friend to the boy in Rukongai, but Hitsugaya was no longer that boy, and he needed something now that Jidanbou's uncomplicated company could not provide.

He did not seek out Hinamori, and it had been years now since he'd stopped waiting for her to come to him.

But that did not change the nature of hope. It did not make the irrational any easier to overcome.

So when he saw her on the street a few days after Akita's death, he stopped at her gesture and waited, despite the fact that she was breaking away from the 3rd and 4th Division Vice Captains to do so, and that they were both giving him strange looks because of it. But he remained on his side of the street and waited for her, his hand closing tighter around the small parcel containing new ink sticks and brushes that he'd just purchased, and told himself that he wasn't angry about the fact that they couldn't even talk to each other anymore without attracting attention. Or about the fact that they only ever talked when chance happened to throw them together. Or about the choices they had both made to put them in that position.

"Hitsugaya-kun," she said, unusually subdued. "I'm sure you've heard all about it. How are you?"

"How am I?" he echoed, frowning. "Why wouldn't I be fine? Akita wasn't my friend."

It was only when she shook her head sadly, undeceived by his words, that he realized he had expected her – even her – to recoil a bit. It only proved that their time apart was changing them. Or at least it was changing him. He should have known better; Hinamori knew him too well.

"He liked you, Hitsugaya-kun. And he was a good man. Everyone's upset. He and Kira-kun and I all passed the exam together, and so the three of us were helping each other as much as we could. But now… I guess I shouldn't be surprised, right? A Vice Captain's duty is dangerous."

"Yeah it is," Hitsugaya said, fixing her with an intent gaze. He wanted to tell her to be careful, but he shouldn't have to.

And maybe he didn't have a right to.

Calling her bed-wetter Momo had been easy. Warning her, advising her, telling her to be cautious as though a Vice Captain in the Gotei 13 was not powerful enough to protect herself… that required an authority not even friendship could grant him.

Or maybe it was just the changes in his own perceptions of the world that made him feel that way.

"I'm worried about Abarai-kun," she went on, glancing back to Kira and Kotetsu, who were now deep in their own conversation. "He spends so much time watching 6th Division… it can't be good, especially now. I know he liked Akita. He's said… he's said some awfully cold things about Kuchiki-taichou."

"What did he say?" Hitsugaya asked, glad that her frustrating deviation into Abarai's life was at least yielding information he couldn't get elsewhere.

"He says that he's not surprised, and that Kuchiki-taichou doesn't really care about his subordinates. But that can't be true. Otherwise why would Abarai-kun want to emulate him so badly? He says this has only made him more determined than ever to advance."

Hinamori seemed truly not to understand what could drive a man so, or at least her concern for Abarai was clouding her thoughts. But for the first time in all of the stories he had heard about Abarai, Hitsugaya thought he could understand the man perfectly well. He knew how it felt to have something to prove. And proving something to _oneself _was always the greatest challenge of all. What spurred that need didn't really matter.

Hinamori of all people should understand that, he thought, puzzled, and stung by an old envy. What else had driven her to walk at Aizen's side?

"Hitsugaya-kun," she said again, her voice dropping even lower, her eyes sad as they fixed on him. "It's a funny thing, and I don't want you to be upset, but I regret saying that you should train to take the Vice Captain's exam. It would be terrible if… I just wouldn't want you put in a position like Akita-kun's."

Hitsugaya merely stared at her in silence for several moments, taking in the earnestness of her expression, the concern in her eyes, the pallor of her skin.

_I am not a friend, _Hyourinmaru had told him, speaking words to tear apart his misconceptions and his foolish hopes.

And Hinamori, though she did not know it, and would probably never know it, had now done the same.

She knew him too well, he had thought. In some ways perhaps that was true. But in others, she did not know him at all. She did not understand what he had become, who he was becoming.

She was worried about _him_? About his _safety_?

He had thought he was not in a position to caution her, but she clearly had no such qualms. Perhaps it should have comforted him, that she thought there was still enough of an intimacy between them to allow this. But instead he couldn't help seeing it as further proof of the widening gap between them. He felt at that moment, watching the concern and uncertainty at work in her pale expression, that time had flowed differently for them in the years since she had left Rukongai.

They had never known the precise number of years that existed between their ages, but somehow that had never mattered, even though those around them always commented on how strange it was that such an old girl should want a young boy for company, and such a young boy should feel content with the company of a girl more woman than child. People wondered, and commented, but it had never mattered. There were some things one simply didn't question.

But she had left, and time had passed, and now Hitsugaya felt as though _he_ were older, that he had grown and she had not, no matter the remaining difference in their heights, no matter what she might call him.

"Hinamori," he said quietly. "I think your friends are waiting for you."

"Please don't be angry," she said quickly, her hands reaching for him. But she stopped the motion, lacing her fingers together anxiously instead.

"I'm not angry," he said, and meant it. He wasn't. He didn't want to examine too closely what he _was_. "I understand. But I need to go back to my division. It's as much of a mess there as it probably is in the 6th right now."

"Yes… I'm sure it is. I should get back to my division too. Aizen-taichou said… well, there's a lot of work to be done. Please be careful, Shiro-chan. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

And with that she gave him one last sad look, biting her lip, then turned and dashed back across the street, to where her fellow Vice Captains were waiting for her before continuing on their way.

Hitsugaya wanted to stand there and watch her go, and for once he didn't care what Kira or Kotetsu or anyone else would think.

But this time, when she went, she would be taking something with her, taking it away from him, more completely than she had even when she left Rukongai, or became Aizen's Vice Captain. This time she was taking away childish dreams and the hope that memory kept alive, the hope that eventually circumstances would change and he would know again how it felt to have someone beside you who never questioned, who never doubted, who always saw through your cold veneer and the masks you wore and knew what you _meant _to say.

Little by little that hope had been stripped away over the years, and he'd told himself with each bit of it gone that he was foolish to have wanted to hold on to it in the first place.

He'd wanted to blame Hinamori for it. Part of him still did.

But it wasn't Hinamori who had changed. She had merely found a new place to put her heart, in the same way she always had.

And so he had a choice, a choice he had made already, though he hadn't realized it at the time. Had made it over and over again as the years went by.

If he watched her go now, he would never be able to walk his own path without looking back – looking back over his shoulder, looking back into memory, hoping to see her there, hoping that the path he walked wouldn't be empty, wouldn't be his alone.

But if he kept looking back, he would never know how far the path ahead might take him.

So he did not turn his head to watch her leave, he did not wait for the sound of her running footsteps to stop, or for her companions to rejoin her. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, and walked on. The small box in his hand had cracked along the hinges, but he did not loosen his grip. He was already turning the corner of the street before the sound of Hinamori's voice, apologizing to her companions for delaying them, had fully faded.

_He chose his failure, _Kuchiki had said, and Hitsugaya did not understand how a Captain could dismiss a subordinate's life so easily, but he did understand about choice.

_He's my Captain, _Akita had said, and he had never felt that sort of attachment to a superior before, but he understood about devotion.

_I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you, _Hinamori said, and he wanted to feel touched by her concern, but all he could feel was a painful sort of emptiness in his chest where what had always been true about their relationship was shifting at last into new shape.

"Hinamori," he whispered, safe beyond sight of her and beyond her hearing, alone in the night-dark street. "I guess it's my turn now to worry."

_Claim me, _Hyourinmaru had said. _And together we can fight anything that might threaten you with loss. _

Hyourinmaru could give him power, but the dragon could not teach him what it meant to _be _a Captain, to be the one who could condemn choice, who could earn devotion, who could protect.

They both knew there was only one way to discover what sort of Captain he could be.

* * *

Seven days after Akita's death, Hitsugaya sought out Komamura for a private meeting.

"I would like to request a short leave from my duties."

"For what purpose?"

"Training."

"I see," Komamura said, and Hitsugaya was certain that he saw very clearly indeed. They both knew the reason. "Very well. You have a month. Afterwards, when you have returned to your duties for a time, you may take a month again."

"I'll only need the one."

Komamura said nothing, but Hitsugaya would have been willing to bet that the expression behind the helmet had been skeptical.

At the end of the month, it must have been something else entirely.

He only needed the one.

* * *

It was a long month.

He slept only a handful of nights, all of them cold, with his back to a tree or a rock, bark and dirt scratching against strips of bare skin where the fabric of his clothing had been torn away by a dragon's icy teeth.

It had not begun as an open battle between them. Submission was key, but harmonization was just as important, and training _together _had comprised most of their years until now – even if the backlash of Hyourinmaru's power in that training had occasionally earned him more than a few bruises. But the last few days had evolved into something far less forgiving than any previous training exercise.

Submission was required, but it was not the key to manifestation. Manifestation traditionally came _first. _

Hyourinmaru didn't seem to care much about tradition.

Hyourinmaru wanted him to _prove _something.

Hitsugaya only wished he knew what it was.

Two days before he was due to return to the Seireitei, he watched the sun rise from his seat at the edge of a high bluff, whose nearly sheer eastern side sloped down to a river far below. Grasses rippled in a chill dawn breeze, and the soft whisper of their rustling mingled with the sound of flowing water, a soothing hum which had lulled Hitsugaya into his first sleep in days. Sleep hadn't done much to refresh him, but exhausted or not, a new dawn meant it was time for another try.

He was starving. He'd eaten the last of his food two weeks ago. Even trained Shinigami could not push themselves forever before spirit hunger did them in.

But it didn't matter now. It couldn't.

Hitsugaya closed stiff and bloodied fingers around the sword on the ground beside him and climbed wearily to his feet.

"All right," he said, his voice hoarse with a swift awakening from too little sleep. "If you want this to go on, it's about time we took it seriously. I'll be damned if I'll be beat by anything but your _real _presence."

**_You are not lacking in conviction. _**

"You bet I'm not."

**_You are merely lacking in understanding. _**

"If you say that one more time…" he snarled, beyond caring about dignity or self restraint.

**_I will say it until you hear it properly. _**

Hitsugaya growled, flipped his grip on the sword with one swift movement, and slammed the blade's tip into the earth. Then he let it go, leaving it upright and quivering faintly, and turned his back on it.

"I'm sick of using you to fight myself."

The dragon said nothing.

Hitsugaya crossed his arms and stared out over the river, glaring at the paling horizon.

"If you want to teach me something, find another way. Otherwise, it's _my_ turn to set the rules."

The first sliver of the sun slipped into view, almost white in the cold and cloudy sky.

It was winter.

An appropriate season.

**_Yes,_** the dragon said.

Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes, but did not turn back to the sword. He didn't need to. For the first time in a month, the ghostly form of Hyourinmaru's partial manifestation drifted into view like mist carried on the breeze, swirling into a dragon's shape. It swam through the air in graceful loops until it filled the air before him, hovering over the river below.

**_What rules will you set?_**

Hitsugaya scowled. From someone else he would have read mockery in those words, but this was Hyourinmaru. The zanpakutou had no need for mockery.

"Are you telling me," he said, his voice emerging too much like a rasp for his comfort, "that all this time you've just been waiting for me to set my own rules?"

**_Just? _**

The dragon spirit wove itself through a full sinuous loop before speaking again.

**_You thought to force my submission by letting me choose the course of the battle? _**

Another serpentine loop, and this time the dragon's head shot toward him, teeth snapping shut less than a sword's length from his face, but Hitsugaya did not flinch. He was too tired to move unless his bodily health depended on it, and he had learned by now to read the dragon's attacks, whether the dragon was shaped of ice or illusion.

**_What am I, Hitsugaya Toushiro? _**

Hitsugaya did not answer. This was the most talkative Hyourinmaru had been all month, and the significance of this change was not lost on him. He was not about to ruin the opportunity with hasty words, no matter how weary and irritated he was.

**_Am I a creature of earth, willing to move on my belly, to walk on legs?_**

A cold spike of power picked up like a wind at his back – from the sword. Even though the dragon's spirit shape still hovered before him, the menace came from behind. But Hitsugaya did not turn. He waited, hoping to hear in Hyourinmaru's anger the final key to understanding.

**_Willing to be humble? _**

He opened and closed his hands slowly, loosening muscles stiffened by exhaustion. Too familiar with a sword's grip. He had set the sword aside out of frustration, but he realized now that he would not be able to take it up again.

Not until this was done.

**_Do you think I would have answered the call of a soul who could not meet me as an equal, as a creature of the same blood? _**

This time the dragon ceased its coiling, its phantom body shimmering in a motionless spiral, and its glowing eyes stared fixedly into his own.

**_Do you think I would give myself to one who could not rule the sky? _**

"No," Hitsugaya said at last, meeting the gaze steadily. "I wouldn't want you to."

**_And I will not. As you are different from other Shinigami, so I am different from other zanpakutou. Do not rely on what you have seen, on what you have read. What do I care for the desires and methods of others? _**

And just like that, all his years spent in study and research seemed meaningless to this struggle. They had given him knowledge and insight into the power and history of others, true. They had taught him of the legacy he had inherited as Shinigami. He could not have succeeded in the Gotei 13 without them.

But what could they have taught him about Hyourinmaru?

**_What do I care for anyone but dragons? _**

And at last, as though this had not been a question hovering unanswered in his mind for years, the answer was there. The memory.

On that night when Hyourinmaru had finally awakened, when he had learned the dragon's name, when a lifetime of dreams of ice and wind had finally been explained, his zanpakutou had told him the only thing that mattered.

_You are the dragon, _it had said.

As though Hyourinmaru could sense his dawning understanding, the cold power at his back intensified, and the translucent serpent shape before him began again to move. Readying itself.

**_Stop holding yourself back. _**

_Be it without doubt, _it had said.

**_You will never be able to claim me if you cannot first be honest with yourself. _**

_Know what you are, _it had said.

_**Every time we enter battle, we fly together. **_

_Only then can we met as equals, _it had said.

_**But I am hampered by you, if you cannot fly alone. Do you understand at last? **_

"Yes," he said, and let his hands fall loose completely. No more fists. Tension left his body like water rolling off glass.

At last, he _did _understand.

Hyourinmaru had been right, that night in the mortal world.

It all came down to fear.

**_Show me what you are. _**

Hitsugaya closed his eyes and drew in a deep, steady breath. The cold at his back was no longer merely an impression of power; the soft tinkling and creak of ice forming was loud now in his ears. Already it was creeping up on his heels.

**_Show me what you are,_** Hyourinmaru said again, and this time the voice was like a roar, shaking the dawn air. **_Prove to me that you are worthy of the wings I can give you. _**

He bent his knees just a fraction; shifted his weight.

**_Prove to me that when you summoned me from the night, I answered the call of a dragon. _**

Opening his eyes, baring his teeth, Hitsugaya launched himself forward – three long steps – a leap – and he was moving through open air, over the river below, his outstretched hand – the only weapon he could allow himself for this battle in order to win it – reaching for Hyourinmaru's ghostly form.

His fingers scraped along scales like steel.

One leap, one roar, a single choice made to finally cast off the fear of his own power, of the depth and threat of it, and of how it would change him – only that choice, and Hyourinmaru had manifested at last.

The phantom dragon which had grown so familiar to him over the years had been a pale shadow of the truth all along. There was nothing translucent about _this_ dragon, nothing of mist or illusion. What had previously been a quicksilver shape like moving cloud was now a massive creature of glass and steel, each scale outlined with a filigree of white frost, each spine on the head and body jagged like ice and tipped in a crimson that matched the glow of its black-pupiled eyes.

With a roar so loud that its vibration in the air sent stars of dizziness spinning across Hitsugaya's vision, the dragon was suddenly all around him, coils closing in, the tip of its tail – trailing a mist of hissing snow like a comet – whistling straight for his head. He curled in on himself, ducking his head just in time, and threw a shoulder forcefully back to give his body enough of a rotation in mid-air to avoid the tail's final lash. There was no time to use the spirit particles in the air to give him purchase for fighting; all he could do for the moment was try to avoid being broken.

But less than a heartbeat later, a lightning-quick snap of the dragon's body brought down a wall of frozen scales on him, numbing his entire left side with ice and impact, accelerating his fall straight down to the waiting river – and he understood that Hyourinmaru was not going to let him play a game of avoidance and defense.

As ludicrous as the thought might have seemed only a few moments ago, he was no longer at all certain that the dragon wouldn't kill him if he failed to meet this challenge. A few moments ago, he would have wondered what a zanpakutou could _be_ without a Shinigami to call it forth, what it could hope to gain by breaking the hand that wielded it.

But he had called forth a dragon, and a dragon had its own desires.

The impact from Hyourinmaru's body knocked the breath from him, and he hit the water already disoriented. The river closed in around him, warm in comparison to the ice sheeting his arm where the dragon had struck, and his lungs spasmed, trying to pull in air against his will. The current was not swift, and his fall shot him straight down toward to the riverbed, where he groped for a submerged boulder to steady himself against the seizures of his water-logged lungs.

He knew the dragon would be waiting above, but he didn't have any choice about the matter, and so only tried to push himself toward the riverbank before breaking the surface. He'd barely managed to cough up the water he'd swallowed and suck in another breath when the shadow fell on him, and a soft whistle like snow sleeting through the air announced the dragon's approach.

Hitsugaya planted one foot on the submerged slope of the rock beneath him and launched himself upward. The dragon's tail lashed through the air beneath his leap, and the rock shattered at the impact; drops of river water from the splash exploded upward, instantly frozen, and whistled up past his face, cutting into his cheek.

They gave him an idea.

This time when he hit the water Hitsugaya was ready for the fall. He focused his reiatsu, seized on the spirit particles around him, and shaped just enough resistance to give his feet something momentarily solid to hit on as they struck the surface of the river. Leaping more than running he moved over the water, and the dragon came behind him.

Space. He only needed space. Space to attack, because this wasn't a retreat. He had never run away from anything in his life. Not challenge, not anger, not loneliness.

He had never run from anything, except for the truths of his own heart.

Some things couldn't be changed with just one choice. He knew that. He had no illusions about the sort of person he was, or of how his life would go on if he could manage to leave this river in one piece and return to the Seireitei.

But there was one thing that could change. One thing that _would _change.

No more pretending that he was anything less than he was. No more denial.

_Do you think I would give myself to one who could not rule the sky? _

No. No more letting himself be infected by the preconceptions of others who looked at him and thought, _too young. _No more letting himself be convinced that patience would serve him better, no more nights spent thinking, _too soon. _No more simply _wondering_ about what sort of Captain he could be. No more wondering if ice should be less cold, or if life would be simpler if he just kept it all in check, kept the edges softened, kept the roar inside.

Hyourinmaru was right. It was time to choose.

It was time to claim the sky.

The dragon was coming behind, but his determination gave him speed, and at last he had put enough space between them to give him room to stop. A spray of water marked the spot where he ground his foot against the river's surface and turned, dropping to one knee in the same motion, bringing his right hand down to meet the water in a strike with all of the reiatsu he could summon behind it.

He had never tried to release his reiatsu like this. To _use _it like this. There had been times when he had let it slip, times when he had taken even himself by surprise, times when he had been able to see it manifest visually. He knew what it said about his power, but he had never tried to shape and hone it in this manner. Kidou was not the same. Kidou wouldn't help him now. He couldn't call on the power of his zanpakutou anymore, but he knew, nonetheless, what he wanted. What he needed. Maybe what he was.

He needed _ice. _

His open palm hit the water, fingers spread wide and wreathed in blue glow, and with a wordless cry he poured every dream of snow he'd ever had into a focused explosion of reiatsu.

The river erupted before him, water sheeting up, leaving a whirlpool vacuum under the impact of his hand. Ice bloomed, crackling up the wall of water in less than a heartbeat, and through the nearly opaque barrier of white crystal shapes that now separated Hitsugaya from the advancing dragon, he could see the red glow of Hyourinmaru's eyes.

He was already sinking again; no more running meant he could no longer stay on the river's surface. He focused, this time using shunpo to help form resistance, and flashed back far enough, and just in time, to avoid being caught in the collision when Hyourinmaru burst, roaring, through the frozen wall. Spears and sheets of ice shattered and spiraled through the air, flashing in the pale light of a winter dawn.

Just as he'd hoped they would.

Another shunpo, pushing the limits of the speed he had so far learned to master, and he was in the air, moving forward again to meet the dragon. He reached out, and closed his hand around a shaft of jagged ice.

He was good at shunpo. He was good at kidou. Hakuda was his weakness.

Sword was his strength.

And if he couldn't use his zanpakutou, then he would just have to use something else.

Hyourinmaru came at him, mouth open, teeth nearly as long as his body preparing to catch him, should he fail to time this perfectly. Should he hesitate to take the necessary risk.

He did not hesitate.

His hands burned with the cold of holding skin to ice, but he kept his grip steady, and brought the frozen blade up, angled in a block that would have stopped any descending sword. He did not expect it to stop a dragon. But it was enough to keep teeth from piercing him, and the pressure of moving air against his back as Hyourinmaru flew on kept him pressed almost completely against the dragon's bared fangs.

Hyourinmaru's head tilted – as he'd expected – trying to throw him off.

He removed one hand from the ice spear, leaving pieces of his skin behind, and slapped his palm against the dragon's snout, closing his fingers around the raised ridge of frost-rimmed scales beside one massive nostril. When Hyourinmaru rotated in mid-air he let his body swing out, used the momentum to pick up rotation, and flipped up – anchored by his bleeding hand clutching at the dragon's serrated scales – to plant both feet squarely between the glowing crimson eyes.

There was no human emotion in them. No way he could read expression in the dilation of those black pupils, each the size of his fist.

But even so, he _knew _what the dragon was thinking. He knew what it _wanted_, now. They were the same.

All the dragon wanted was for him to claim his own identity.

He yelled – roared – to match the dragon's own voice, and before Hyourinmaru could turn again to dislodge him he brought his sword of ice around, gripped in both hands, and sunk it as far into the silver-blue of the head beneath him as he could.

Only much later, thinking back, would it occur to him to wonder how much damage he might actually have been able to inflict on his zanpakutou's spirit.

But in the air, blood on his hands, his throat already raw with a roar too large for his small, human-sized body, he was beyond the point of such rational thought.

The spar of ice penetrated the scales, perhaps only as ice could have. Hyourinmaru's scream of defiance sent pain shooting through Hitsugaya's temples, but he held steady and threw all the strength of his body into pushing the weapon in further. This time when Hyourinmaru spun, he had a tight grip with both hands and managed to keep even his feet firmly in place. The dragon righted itself again, and without warning shot straight up into the sky like a launching arrow. Hitsugaya's feet slipped, and just as his hands – unable to generate a strength that could compensate for the dragon's speed – slid from the ice, Hyourinmaru snapped to an even swifter stop, lashing its body into a swiftly moving spiral.

Hitsugaya abandoned his makeshift weapon completely and caught himself in mid-fall by one of the red-tipped spines running the length of the dragon's back.

He was _not _going to fall.

He was _not _going to be struck down to earth again.

He was not going to be denied his place in the sky, not even by Hyourinmaru.

When the sinuous body beneath him arched to fling him away, he pushed off of it instead; closed bloody fingers around another spine; swung himself around. The tail whistled toward him again, and he threw himself flat against iridiscent scales so that only his hair was ruffled by its passage.

Hyourinmaru spun, and so he _ran_, using the dragon's snaking body itself as a means to climb higher.

_This close, _he thought, _you cannot strike me without striking yourself. _

Higher. Higher. He caught another spine at the back of the dragon's massive head, and planted his foot – pushed off –

_This close, we are one. _

And even as the dragon roared, snapping at him with its massive teeth one last time as he sailed up and past, Hitsugaya could hear Hyourinmaru's voice again clearly in his mind.

_**Yes. You are the dragon. I am merely the shadow. Remember this. You cannot escape your destiny. **_

A breath like a snowstorm's wind struck him with the last of Hyourinmaru's roar, and at last he was forced to close his eyes or be blinded, one hand rising reflexively to cover his face.

Something narrow and hard struck his palm, and he closed his fingers around it on instinct, because he would know the feel of Hyourinmaru's sword grip anywhere.

He was colder, suddenly, than he had ever felt before in his life, and yet he had never felt more alive.

When he opened his eyes, the dragon was gone. He was not surprised. He did not need to see it to know that it was inside of him.

**_Choose what you will guard, Hitsugaya Toushiro. Choose, and we will fight as one. But do not forget your nature. Remember my words. A dragon, once wakened, is not easily put to sleep again. The day may come when you fly so high that you will not remember how to return to ground. That is the price of the bankai I give you. To fully be the dragon, you must sacrifice all else. _**

Far below him, the river glinted silver in the gray dawn. He was steady in mid-air, and his breath was turned to puffs of cloud by the feather-like daggers of ice creeping over his shoulders. He lifted his left hand, unsurprised to see the coating of ice that made claws of his fingers, but fascinated by it all the same. He was aware of every change to his body as though he had always known what those changes would be. Frozen fingers, ice over arm and sword, a tail that would crush enemies as surely as Hyourinmaru's had tried to crush him only moments ago.

_**But not all of our battles together will require a price to be paid,** _Hyourinmaru added, and the voice was somehow gentler than it had ever been.

The dragon was pleased.

**_I told you once that only at this point would we be able to truly begin. _**

"Yes," Hitsugaya said, his voice scraped raw. But he couldn't have cared less about the pain now.

**_So let us begin. Even a dragon must learn how to fly. _**

Hitsugaya closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply of the winter air, and smiled.

Only in his dreams had he believed that Hyourinmaru's promise of flight might mean he would actually be given wings.

For the first time in his life, he was happy to be proven wrong.

* * *

_Author's Note: Needless to say, I think that Shawlong was totally wrong in his assessment of Hitsugaya's bankai. I also think that Ichimaru's reference to heavenly guardian reincarnation was not a random throw-away comment - but then, **that** is probably just my obsession talking. :) Needless to say, I'm looking forward to seeing the truth of Hitsugaya's bankai fully revealed. In the meantime, I will continue in my obsessed speculations… _


	5. Part Five: In the Eye of the Storm

_Author's Notes: I know a lot of people aren't really interested in author notes, so feel free to skip these if you'd like. But I just felt like babbling about a few things:_

_1. I'm very sorry for the long delay between chapters. Life has been ridiculously busy, alas. And as usual with everything I write, I cannot apparently resist the urge to make every story the length of a set of encyclopedias, and so here I am still, chugging along on a story that was supposed to have been three short chapters. I realize these sorts of delays mean all of the original characters and small events of a story are probably forgotten, and I'm sorry about that. Hopefully there's enough of a sense of continuity that re-reading past chapters isn't necessary._

_2. Despite getting another wonderful glimpse into Hyourinmaru's power after the petals fade (in chapter 234 of the manga), I confess I still obsess over thoughts of bankai. Byakuya's bankai was shown to have several stages to it, and I wonder if that's true of all bankai forms once they are fully developed. I continue to speculate about Hyourinmaru's nature, and so am leaving the previous chapter unchanged._

_3. If anyone is wondering why this story seems to be dwelling so much on the passage of time, or why events seem to take so long to unfold, it's because I'm trying to explain the forty year time gap between Hinamori's time as a student in the academy (and hence Hitsugaya's time as a child in Rukongai) and the point of Ichigo's invasion. Forty years is a long time to explain away…_

_4. Lastly, to anyone who might be seeing references in this chapter that don't seem to match up with what they've read in previous chapters, I suggest reading my other story "Facets," for those who haven't done so. That might clear things up._

* * *

**FROZEN SKY**

Part Five: In the Eye of the Storm

His initial plan for returning to the Seireitei at the end of his training month had been to come in at night, through Jidanbou's gate, so that no one else would be around to comment on his absence or the physical state he might be in. Jidanbou wouldn't ask so many questions, and wouldn't, he hoped, make too much of a fuss.

He hadn't expected, however, to be in quite as bad a state as he found himself when the time actually came. He did his best to scrub off all of the blood and sweat in the river before beginning the journey back, but not even his best efforts could hide the torn clothing or the unhealed cuts and bruises.

Given that, Jidanbou reacted just as could be expected. Precisely the reaction Hitsugaya had been hoping to avoid.

"Hitsugaya-kun, what sort of hour is this to be coming home, eh?" Jidanbou called on seeing him, in a voice that would probably wake up all of Jyunrinan if he wasn't silenced swiftly.

"Jidanbou, would you please keep your voice down, damn it!"

"I can always tell when Hitsugaya-kun has not been getting enough sleep, because he is crankier than usual. Isn't that right? You haven't been getting enough sleep, have…" He stopped, and bent down with astonishing speed to peer intently at his smaller friend. "What is this? You have been fighting! There has been no word of Hollows or intruders!"

"No Hollows," Hitsugaya muttered, trying to stand fast under Jidanbou's gaze, which was never an easy feat at such close proximity, given their respective sizes. "But it _is _late, and I'd like to get to bed."

"What?" Jidanbou exclaimed. "Bed? No! You are grievously injured! You must go to be healed!"

"I am _not _grievously injured. Do I look _grievously _injured?"

"Absolutely!"

"No, I don't. I do _not_ look grievously injured. I just look tired, because that's what I am. Jidanbou," he added hastily, seeing the larger Shinigami sucking in a breath for an adamant – and undoubtedly loud – retort, "I'm asking you. Please, just let me through. I've been training, that's all."

He knew he could have slipped past Jidanbou even now, exhausted as he was. But then the giant would make an even bigger fuss, and he would have to deal with guilt in addition to everything else.

But a second later, when new voices spoke, he wished he'd made the decision to slip past from the very beginning.

The fact that he hadn't sensed their approaching reiatsu was just further proof of how drained bankai training had left him, and he grimaced, wishing even more fervently for the privacy of his room and several days of uninterrupted sleep. He was going to have to ask Komamura for those extra days; there was no way of getting around it.

But first he had to get back to the division compound in the first place.

"Uninvited guests, Jidanbou?"

He would not have recognized the voice alone, but there was no mistaking the face. Hisagi Shuuhei had certainly gone out of his way to make himself recognizable.

Hitsugaya sighed, shooting Jidanbou an accusatory look, but spoke up quickly in the hope of heading things off before they got too complicated. "Hisagi-fukutaichou. I'm returning from training leave. Jidanbou was just about to let me through. Weren't you, Jidanbou?" he added through slightly clenched teeth.

Unfortunately, Hisagi wasn't alone.

"What? Training leave?"

Hitsugaya recognized 10th Division's third seat easily even though her name at the moment escaped him, because there was no way the woman's issues with her clothing could be anything but deliberate, or anything but memorable. He had never spoken to her, and wasn't at all thrilled with the prospect of striking up a dialogue now of all times. If ever.

"And who's this, then?" she asked cheerfully, her cheeks bright red. "I've seen that hair before, I'm sure of it!"

"Hitsugaya, isn't it?" Hisagi said, apparently a bit more sober than his companion.

"Yes," Hitsugaya replied, fighting the urge to launch into a few shunpo and leave them all behind. If announcing that he had just come from achieving bankai would have instantly granted him a Captain's authority to sweep by them without the need for any excuse or explanation, he would have done so in a heartbeat.

As it was, he had no intention of making that announcement too soon.

For several long moments Hisagi merely stared at him, and Hitsugaya met and held his gaze, trying not to let his impatience show too clearly, though with little hope of success. He had no idea what Hisagi was looking for, or what he might be sensing from him. He was simply too tired to worry about keeping his reiatsu totally in check, and had no way of knowing how achieving bankai might have altered what others sensed in it.

"Well, he's certainly looking a bit under the weather, whoever he is!" With an astonishing speed and precision for someone so apparently drunk, the woman was suddenly at Hitsugaya's side and leaning down to peer into his face.

"Oi!" he snapped instantly, more frustrated by the way weariness slowed his reactions than even by her nearness. "Watch where you're waving that sake!"

"Oops! Sorry! Sure you don't want some? It might perk you up!"

"Maybe he should go pay a visit to 4th Division instead," Hisagi said calmly.

"Yes!" Jidanbou boomed. "That is my opinion too, Hisagi-fukutaichou!"

"Fine," Hitsugaya muttered. "Fine. I'll go to 4th Division. I'll go right this minute if you'll just let me pass."

"Sure you don't want a drink for the road?" the woman asked cheerfully.

"I'm sure. Excuse me."

"Well, if you see Kotsubaki or Kotetsu on the way, do let us know, will you? We seem to have lost them."

"Hitsugaya-kun, I will go with you – "

"No! I'll come talk to you later, Jidanbou," he said hastily, and this time he did use shunpo to get him past the gate keeper's massive body and well on his way before another word could be spoken to hinder him. No one called for him to stop, but he could hear their voices fading behind him as he went.

"Ah, did he just leave without even giving you a nod, Hisagi? Well, don't look so glum! _I'm _the one who should really be offended – he didn't even _look _at my breasts!"

Despite his weariness, he made it to the 4th Division compound in record time.

* * *

In the end, he did not have to ask for any additional time off from his duties in order to rest; one full night's sleep proved all he needed. Or at least, all he needed in order to be up and working again, even if he was still feeling more than a bit glassy-eyed.

He strongly suspected his fast recovery from weariness was a direct result of having raised his spirit power to a new level, but could not verify it beyond intuition. His visit to 4th Division had been brief and he had beat a hasty retreat – after enduring a cursory inspection by their sixth seat officer – in order to avoid any possible encounters with Unohana. He thought it a distinct possibility that the insightful 4th Division Captain would be able to divine what he had accomplished merely by coming in close contact with his reiatsu, and he didn't yet have his arguments or explanations prepared. He knew, however, that he would have to put them together quickly, because to Komamura, at least, some explanation was owed.

Pensive and weary, he was glad to walk into his office and find it empty, as was customary this early in the morning. Watari liked to do his paperwork in the afternoons, and though Jiroubou kept no steady schedule, Hitsugaya suspected that the larger man studiously avoided the office whenever he himself was in it. It was the only explanation for the fact that the fifth seat's paperwork somehow got done, even though Hitsugaya never saw him doing it.

He liked having the office to himself, though he wouldn't have minded the quiet company of someone like Watari or even Imada, men who could be trusted to do their work in silence and to do it well.

He wondered what sort of office he might have as a Captain.

Were all of the division compounds arranged like 7th Division's? He had spent a great deal of time in Komamura's office for his weekly meetings with the Vice Captain, and it was a large place. Plenty of room for shelves. Windows that let in good sunlight.

"I see you're back."

Mortified to discover that the had been lost in speculation – no, in downright daydream – with his brush held motionless and dripping ink onto his paperwork, Hitsugaya snapped his head around to the door and tried not to glare at Imada.

"Yes," he said, setting aside his brush and crumpling the ruined paper.

"You look exhausted. I guess you really were training, then."

"Is that what you heard?"

"From Komamura-taichou. Officially, you were gone for personal reasons, but I can only imagine what that has turned into in rumor."

Hitsugaya frowned, unsure which was worse – to have everyone rightly suspecting he was pursuing something a bit more ambitious than a fourth seat's advancement in his training, or enduring sordid speculations about his personal life.

"Anyway, it's your business," Imada said calmly, then added with surprising seriousness, "I have my own theories, but since you do seem to want to _keep_ it your business, I'll let them be for now. Komamura-taichou wants to see you."

"Now?"

"Yes. Also, I have squad inspections scheduled for this afternoon, and I'd like you to be there."

"I'll be there."

They parted with silent nods, and as he made his way down empty corridors to Komamura's office, Hitsugaya found himself wondering uncomfortably how his working relationship with Imada might be affected, should the Vice Captain discover what this extra training of his was for. Or what it had already accomplished.

He did not yet know exactly how he wanted to explain things to Komamura, but there was no point delaying. Standing outside the Captain's office, he drew a deep breath, wishing that he had Hyourinmaru at his back, then put one hand to the screens.

"Excuse me. Hitsugaya Toushiro reporting as asked."

"Come in."

He rolled back the door and stepped inside, to find Komamura standing alone at one of the windows, his massive hands clasped behind his back.

Hitsugaya bowed, even though bowing never came to him as naturally as it probably should, and even though Komamura couldn't see the motion behind him. But he respected Komamura enough to make the gesture, especially since it was quite possible he was about to make things… difficult… for the 7th Division's Captain.

For several long moments after the sound of the screen's closing, they both stood motionless in silence. Then Komamura turned, morning sunlight glinting on the ridges of his helmet.

"So. You have succeeded in your training."

He had no intention of lying, especially not here, and so he simply nodded, very glad now indeed that he had managed to avoid Unohana, if even Komamura could pick up on the truth so easily. Avoiding other Captains altogether might be a good idea for a while. Fortunately, for a fourth seat, that wouldn't be too hard to manage.

Assuming things could stay as they were.

"You asked for a month, and said that only one month would be needed. You were right. I commend you."

It took an effort of will not to shrug, or to otherwise dismiss the compliment, no matter how uncomfortable it made him feel. The only acknowledgement he wanted was Hyourinmaru's, and he'd already received that, in the greatest manner possible.

A sudden image of Hinamori, smiling proudly, flashed through his mind, but he quelled it ruthlessly.

Or at least he tried to.

"I will be reporting your success to Genryuusai-dono," Komamura said, and there was no room for argument in the steadiness of his deep voice. "I suspect he will be even less surprised than I. What remains to be decided is what recommendations I should include in the report, regarding your future. What have you to say on the matter, Hitsugaya?"

Hitsugaya curled his hands into loose fists and stared into the eye slit of Komamura's helmet, glad for the distance between them that made the woeful difference in their heights less obvious.

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"Of course. There is no time limit placed upon those who wish to test for a Captain's rank, or any set date to concern you."

"No."

Komamura made a low noise of mild surprise, almost a growl.

"I mean…" Hitsugaya amended uncomfortably, "can I keep it… private… for a while?"

"Private? I see." Komamura turned back to the window, gauntleted hands still clasped behind his back, then said, "There are other options open to you, of course. Certainly a Vice Captain's seat would be yours for the taking. There is more than one division at the moment that could use a skilled second seat."

"Komamura-taichou," Hitsugaya said, tightening his fists, determined to keep his voice level. Calm. He called to mind the memory of ice over his shoulders, around his body, in his veins. The dragon could be patient, when it had to be. "I don't want a Vice Captain's seat. I will take the Captain's exam, and I'll pass it. But when that day comes, I don't want there to be any question. I want… I _need _it to be perfect. If I make even one mistake, there will always be someone who will doubt my right. They'll say _tensai _and see…"

He couldn't bring himself to say it; his pride choked the words halfway out of his mouth. He wanted to think that at least among Captains there wouldn't be anyone foolish enough to overlook power in order to judge by appearances, that there wouldn't be anyone who would insist on calling him a child in spite of ability. He wanted to think it, but he couldn't completely dispel the doubt.

"I understand," Komamura said, and there was something in his voice that made Hitsugaya believe the words were more than mere platitude. "You wish to continue your training, then?"

"Yes. At the very least, I need to train longer with bankai before facing any sort of test."

"Merely having achieved bankai would be enough, in most eyes."

"Not in mine."

"No. And that is why I believe you will make a true Captain, when you choose to make that time your own. That is what I will report to Genryuusai-dono."

Hitsugaya bowed again, glad this time that it gave him an excuse to hide his expression of relief.

"You have always performed your duties well," Komamura went on, "but they have never suited you. You cannot give a fourth seat's duties the true care they deserve, any more than I think you could give it to third seat's. Perhaps not even a Vice Captain's. No matter how well you attend to the details, taking pride in them is another matter. Your thoughts have always been… elsewhere."

He had to clench his teeth to keep from retorting in defensive irritation, and even as he did so he realized he was only proving Komamura right. He should have felt ashamed to have it so bluntly pointed out that he did not take pride in his work. But he didn't feel ashamed, any more than graduating from the academy in less than a year or efficiently filing hellmoth care reports had made him feel proud. They were always just something he had to do. Something he _could _do.

He had already heard the word "arrogant" muttered behind his back several times, along with other words less kind, whether coupled with _tensai _or not. And maybe they were all true.

And a month ago, even two days ago, he might have let the memory of those mutterings, or Komamura's painfully astute observations, deter him from his chosen path.

But Hyourinmaru had given him wings. What could he do now, except fly with them? To turn back now, for any reason, would be a betrayal of a promise made to his zanpakutou. That, he could not do.

So he clenched his fists, and said nothing.

"I say this," Komamura continued, "but it is not the criticism it might be, if said of other Shinigami. Those who instinctively know their destiny…"

The Captain's voice trailed off unexpectedly, and when he spoke again there was a strange undercurrent, almost a wistfulness, to his tone. Through the slit in his helmet, the morning sunlight flashed briefly in golden eyes.

"… they are fortunate. Even powerful men often need a guide. Someone to believe in them, before they can believe in themselves. Perhaps you are not that sort, Hitsugaya Toushiro. But perhaps you have discoveries yet to make. However it may be, I am willing to grant you your request for now. Train as you wish, but keep in mind that you cannot hide the truth forever. Sooner or later your destiny will catch you, whether you are ready for it or not."

* * *

From the moment he'd first felt Hyourinmaru's grip against his palms, the desire to train, to be worthy of his sword, had been a driving force in him. There had been satisfaction in every advancement in skill, and pride in seeing every swift ripple of the dragon's watery scales. But he had never _enjoyed _his training as much as he did now, learning to fly on icy wings, and to understand the dragon within and without in entirely new ways.

One day a week for personal training was no longer nearly enough, but he did not want to draw any further attention to himself by requesting another leave from his duties, so he contented himself with the time he could get. And even though training in bankai form drained him, so that he could only use it for short portions of the time he had, he could not feel disappointed when the rewards were otherwise so great.

The winter months went by, and he felt the cold even less than usual. Even when he wasn't training, the sound of Hyourinmaru's voice alone could make the world feel wrapped in ice, tinkling, sharp with life, like cold air in the lungs.

_I am not a friend, _Hyourinmaru had said. And maybe not. But when all was said and done, now that he truly understood what it meant to _know _his zanpakutou, Hitsugaya was content with the exchange.

_**You grow more comfortable with our union day by day.**_

"Yeah," he said idly, laying on his back near the banks of the river where he had finally defeated the dragon. He often returned here for his training. It was an isolated spot, with plenty of water to use in his ice techniques. It was also nice, when the time for a rest came, to let the murmur of the river lull him into that pleasant state of half-consciousness, when muscles warmed by long training had not yet begun to stiffen and new bruises not yet begun to ache. He laced his fingers behind his head, and relaxed even more deeply into the grass. The sky overhead was a crisp blue, the last of the clouds he had summoned in his training wisping away.

**_Soon you may be ready to maintain bankai until the petal shards have fully faded. _**

"_May_?" he echoed indignantly, turning his head to scowl at the dragon's half-manifested phantom form. It lay in the river's shallow bank, coiled around several boulders with its head resting on a loop of its own scales, staring at him. Hyourinmaru only laughed at his indignation, and icy vapor streamed from the dragon's nostrils.

Hitsugaya wasn't entirely mollified by proof of his zanpakutou's good humor, but he let it slide for now. If he had learned anything in his battle with the dragon, and in the training which had followed his victory, it was that Hyourinmaru was a difficult creature to please, and doled out lessons in his own time, regardless of how often he liked to insist that it was Hitsugaya who should decide the course of their destiny.

The lessons had at least been coming hard and fast, now. In all his time working with Hyourinmaru in mastering shikai, the zanpakutou had never taught him any named attacks. But many things had changed with achieving bankai, and now his sword was revealing to him a whole new array of abilities.

The first time he had used the Dragon Hailstone Form, choosing a nearby boulder as a target, he had nearly dammed the river by collapsing an entire portion of the riverbank. The Dragon Breath Storm Ring had spread a layer of blue ice even over a snow-covered field in the dead of winter, and the effect of the White Claw Rose attack on a nearby cluster of trees had convinced him at last that he didn't need to worry too much, in bankai form, about what might be lacking in his hakuda.

But for all that, he knew he hadn't yet entered his bankai's second stage. Hyourinmaru had hinted at what he might expect, when the petals fully faded. A zanpakutou that could control the weather even in shikai form could do so much more, with the water that filled the world, in bankai.

And after that? What final stage remained? What secrets was the dragon still hiding, still holding in wait until the day its wielder might prove fully worthy? Fully ready?

Hitsugaya was sure there _were _still secrets to be uncovered, and he had only needed to have his question evaded once – when he asked about the warning Hyourinmaru had given him on the day he first achieved bankai – in order to decide that he wouldn't ask again. As with everything else, he would _earn _it. That was fine with him.

_**You are learning how to fly.** _Hyourinmaru shifted his phantom form lazily, like a serpent readjusting its coiled drape among sun-warmed rocks. But the dragon's red eyes remained fixed on him. **_Now we truly fly together. But will this be enough, to achieve what you desire? _**

He did not bother to pretend that he didn't understand the question. The matter rarely left his thoughts, and it was good every once in a while to set pride aside and get it all off his chest by talking about it. Friend or not, Hyourinmaru could give him that at least.

"I don't know. Maybe. From everything I've read and heard, just having bankai could be enough. But I don't want to get there and find that my kidou isn't at a Captain's standard, or anything else like it."

**_And you think all Captains have thus mastered all of a Shinigami's skills? _**

"Well… no. There's always someone like Zaraki, I suppose. But I'm not planning to kill anyone to take a Captain's seat, so let's just accept that we'll be working with another set of standards."

**_Your set._**

"Yes. My damn set of standards."

**_Very well. _**

"You're being cheeky today. What's your problem?"

**_I? A problem? _**

"No, of course not," he said dryly. "Never mind."

**_I do not. _**

And then again, sometimes he thought it would be nice to have another _person _to talk to about these things. Another Shinigami, who could understand his reservations and concerns in a way that the dragon, no matter how much it might mirror his own deeper self, could not.

He hadn't yet told Hinamori about his bankai, about his goals. Even though he had seen her several times in the months since his success, they had not managed to arrange time alone together for more than brief conversations, and he had not been able to find the words in those circumstances to tell her what he had accomplished. It would feel too much like bragging, and yet… she was Momo. She was the only person he truly wanted to tell.

Or at least, she had been Momo. It would have been easy to tell bed-wetter Momo. Telling _Vice Captain Hinamori,_ on the other hand, was a totally different matter.

He sighed, trying to dispel the thought, and sat up, scrubbing blades of broken grass out of his hair with a careless hand.

"It's time to be heading back."

The dragon lifted its head and opened its mouth in anticipation, almost like an eager dog. A dog with very long teeth.

**_Shall we fly? _**

"No. I need to work on lengthening my shunpo."

_**Very well.**_But the disappointment was obvious in the familiar growling voice, as the half-formed manifestation faded entirely from view. _**I will accede to your wishes.** _

"Damn right you will. I'm glad that you remember."

**_Even dragons must look in mirrors sometimes._**

"_I'm_ allowed to be cheeky. You're not the one who's going to have to deal with these bruises tomorrow."

But despite the onset of bruising, despite the sting of scrapes and weariness, he forced shunpo after shunpo in his journey back to the Seireitei in good spirits. Every day he felt himself growing stronger. Every time Hyourinmaru spoke to him, the dragon's voice seemed clearer, though he had never realized the distance between them before. Every time he lay down on his futon at night to go over in his mind all the training of his day, he had never felt more content with his own progress, more at ease in his own power.

Every bruise was worth it.

* * *

It was commonly accepted that, even for the gifted, it took ten years of devoted training to achieve bankai. After that, ten more years were commonly expected in order to learn to control bankai properly.

He had achieved bankai in less, and intended to master it in less. But with a seated officer's duties to occupy him, and a stubborn desire for perfection in all of his training, the process could not go as speedily as he would otherwise have liked. He would have liked more knowledge on how other Captains had gone about perfecting their bankai, especially someone with a reputation for genius, like Urahara Kisuke. Or with a reputation for power, like Kuchiki Byakuya. But the secrets of bankai, individual or collective, where among the more closely guarded in Soul Society. No Captain wanted the minutiae of their ability to become common knowledge, and so he was left with only his own instinct as guide. That, and Hyourinmaru. Neither were forgiving masters.

He had never been particularly good at keeping track of time. In Jyunrinan, the only important thing about keeping track of time had been to be aware of when watermelons were in season. After Hinamori had left, refusing to keep track of the passing months and years had been a way of refusing to acknowledge that she'd taken something from him in leaving. It hadn't worked particularly well. But since becoming Shinigami, time had shed even more of its meaning, passing even less remarked. Tapping into the core of one's true spirit power granted Shinigami an agelessness that surpassed even that experienced by all souls in Soul Society as they waited their time to be reborn, and it was a fact of life that he accepted easily – with only the occasional twinge of frustration to think that it might also mean he had managed to get himself stuck too early, at too short a height.

But even so, he could endure the lifetimes it might take to grow into his height with more grace than the time it was taking him to walk the path to a Captainship he could claim without challenge. He was still no good at counting the months as they went by, but seasons came and went, and every winter – the season in which Hyourinmaru seemed liveliest – he tried to tell himself that one more winter was a small price to pay in order to earn a Captain's rank unquestioned.

Komamura had not spoken to him again in private. If the large Captain had doubts about the time his fourth seat officer was taking, they could be seen no more than the expression on his hidden face. At division exercises and officer meetings, he spoke no differently to Hitsugaya than before, so that no one else in the division seemed to have noticed anything amiss. But what they missed, Hitsugaya did not. The structure of the division and the regular distribution of its duties made it easy to continue to do his tasks without anyone noticing that Komamura had not once, since learning that he had achieved bankai, given him a direct order. Hitsugaya appreciated the silent gesture, and returned it by making sure that his private training in no way interfered with his fourth seat work. Staying up all night to read advanced kidou scrolls could not be allowed to become an excuse to arrive late to squad inspections.

But no impasse could last forever, and he wasn't really surprised to look back and find that it was Hinamori who was indirectly responsible for pushing him onto a more direct path. Somehow, it was always Hinamori.

She caught him again as he was leaving the stationery store with new brushes and inksticks in hand, and the memory of the newest attack Hyourinmaru had shown him in his mind. He wished he could carry his sword with him as he went about his daily business; being separated from his zanpakutou made him uneasy. The right to carry his zanpakutou at all times, in all places, regardless of regulations or battle status, would be one Captain's privilege he was only too eager to embrace.

"Hitsugaya-kun! You go through ink pretty quickly, don't you?"

She was smiling, as usual. Brightness and energy and a total disregard for whoever might be watching, as usual.

Even now, he still missed her.

But that was no reason to encourage her.

"You're here pretty often yourself. I should think a Vice Captain would be using up more ink than a fourth seat, assuming she was doing her work properly."

"Always so cold, Shiro-chan! You're not going to make any new friends that way, you know."

"Who needs them."

"I do, for one. But I've already got good ones, ne, Shiro-chan?"

"Hinamori. If you do not stop calling me that in public, I'm going to…" But what he might do was lost to a growl of frustration, and a furtive glance around the street to be sure that no one had overheard.

"Listen, Hitsugaya-kun," she said, her tone suddenly changed. She paused and looked around as well, then went on. "Come with me to lunch. My treat. I know the best place to get rice cakes."

"Rice cakes? What's this about?"

"Can't I just invite you to lunch?" she demanded, shaking her wrapped parcel of stationery goods at him in frustration. "Just say yes!"

"All right, all right. You can buy me rice cakes, if it will calm you down."

"It will. Now let's go."

They walked together, and she babbled cheerfully about her duties as a Vice Captain, about Aizen, about how Hisagi-fukutaichou had had to knock an 11th Division rookie unconscious because he made fun of Isane-fukutaichou's height, about Aizen, and about the hard time she had been having trying to teach kidou to some of her division's newer recruits, until Hitsugaya managed to catch her in the middle of a pause.

"Hinamori, you asked me to lunch because you want to talk to me about something, right? What is it?"

"Ah, Hitsugaya-kun, you never let me get away with anything. I was coming around to it. I just… thought we could get something to eat first, and find somewhere private."

"Private?" He didn't know whether to feel alarmed, or happy that she wanted to set aside time like this for the two of them. It hadn't happened in a long time. "What's this about? Is everything all right?"

"Well… that's what I was going to ask _you, _Hitsugaya-kun."

His heart sank with sudden foreboding. "Ask… me?"

"Yes." She frowned, and a sudden breeze fluttered the ends of her hair ribbons against her cheek. "I don't know how to say it, really, but there's… there's something different about you lately, Hitsugaya-kun. You've been even more distant than usual, but it's not just that."

"I haven't been distant," he said bluntly. "I'm just busy."

"That's what I mean. You never go to any of the seated officer activities, and – "

"I never did to begin with. What does it matter now?"

"Ah, you're making this so difficult!"

"Sorry," he said unapologetically.

"Listen. I just want to know if – "

Another voice interrupted them, echoing down the street.

"_Oi, Hinamori!_"

Hitsugaya turned to see a tall man with ridiculously bright red hair tied up in the most ridiculous hairstyle, jogging casually past shops and food stands toward them. People moved quickly out of his way, but he seemed not to notice them.

"Abarai-kun!" Hinamori said in surprise.

Abarai. Of course. Hitsugaya had only seem him from a distance once or twice, and never spoken to him, but he had heard enough about him from Hinamori over the years to feel no surprise on seeing the strange tattoos on the man's face. Nor was he surprised, given all the stories, by the casual familiarity with which Abarai approached her, though he couldn't help but find _that _a bit annoying. Abarai had shared in a part of Hinamori's life that had changed her completely, had been her companion during the years which had pulled her away from her childhood and all its old trappings. Hitsugaya knew it was pointless, and childish, and beneath him, but he couldn't help resenting Abarai Renji for that. At least a little bit.

"Here you are, Hinamori," Abarai said, striking a pose as he drew up beside her that managed somehow to look slothful and arrogant at the same time. Hitsugaya wondered wryly how often the man had practiced it. "You've been missing all morning. What the hell have you been up to?"

"That's none of your business, Abarai-kun. Besides, I can – "

"Who's the squirt?"

Hitsugaya grit his teeth and met Abarai's narrowed gaze. He didn't doubt for a minute that Abarai knew exactly who he was, and so he said nothing, only gripped his box of brushes tighter and wished again for Hyourinmaru at his back.

"Argh, boys! You're all the same!"

"_Boys?_" Abarai turned on her. "What the hell?"

"Why were you looking for me, Abarai-kun?"

"Hell, I was just doing you a favor. Kira told me that Aizen-taichou is looking for you."

"Aizen-taichou!" she echoed, her eyes wide, and her entire aura was transformed by sudden concern. "Oh no, and here I've spent all morning shopping! I have to get back to the 5th Division compound immediately! Hitsugaya-kun, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"I'll see you later Hitsugaya-kun, Abarai-kun!"

And with that she ran off, her sleeves flapping, her ribbons trailing behind her. She took five long strides down the street, then gathered herself, leapt easily to a nearby rooftop, and vanished over the horizon.

Hitsugaya sighed before catching himself, then shot Abarai a suspicious look to find him, unfortunately, staring right back.

"So," Abarai drawled. "You must be Shiro-chan, eh?"

Hitsugaya nearly broke the box and all the brushes in it. It was all he could do to keep his reiatsu firmly in check. The next time he got Hinamori alone, he was going to… going to… do _something_…

"Heh. Don't worry about it. She doesn't talk about her childhood with anyone other than me and Kira." Then he grinned, a slightly lopsided grin that showed sharp canines somehow perfectly in keeping with the sharp angles of the tattoos obscuring his eyebrows. "I don't think."

"She can say whatever she wants. No one cares about other people's childhood stories."

Abarai suddenly frowned, and Hitsugaya wondered for a moment if he might have let his reiatsu slip.

It didn't matter. He just wanted to get out of here.

Without another word, he turned sharply and started back the way he'd come, already planning a roundabout route to get back to 7th Division. A route that would keep him far away from anyone who might have heard anything Hinamori had ever said about him.

"Oi," Abarai called after him, and there was a sharpness to his tone now that hinted at business. Hinamori had always said Abarai had the power to back up his attitude, but Hitsugaya didn't care to put it to the test. He didn't trust himself to hold back, and he wasn't sure if Hinamori would forgive him if he didn't. Besides, his disciplinary record so far was spotless, and he intended to keep it that way. So Hitsugaya ignored him, and fortunately the man made no further effort to call him back, or to follow.

He made it back to the 7th Division compound without incident, but he had barely stepped past the massive entrance gate when Etsuko Aru came running across the main courtyard to meet him. The long walk had hardly begun to wear the edges off his temper, and his effort to ease his scowl failed completely.

"Hitsugaya! Word from Imada-fukutaichou. He says you need to report to him immediately at the 4th Division relief center."

"Why? Is he injured?"

"Well, I think so, but I don't think it's serious. He said it was important, but it didn't seem _urgent _in that way. He sent for Watari too. He's already on his way."

"All right. I'm going."

It wasn't until he was halfway to 4th Division, following Hinamori's example this time and taking the rooftops for a shorter route, that he realized he was still carrying around his parcel of brushes and ink. It was too big to tuck comfortably into his kimono, and it had been too expensive to simply leave lying about in the hope of coming back for it later, so he resigned himself to carrying it. Hopefully this wasn't any sort of call to arms, and it wouldn't matter if he was seen lugging about his shopping. It was his free time after all, wasn't it?

Damn Abarai… damn Hinamori and her damn _Shiro-chan_... she knew how to make him act a fool like no one else…

One of the ever attentive relief center assistants accosted him before he'd taken more than five steps into the building, asking with iron cheerfulness how she could help move him along.

"I'm here to see Imada-fukutaichou."

"Yes, of course, right this way."

Imada was in a private room toward the center of the compound, where higher-ranking officers were usually treated. Watari was already there with him, but the room was otherwise empty. Imada sat up straighter on the medical bed when Hitsugaya walked in, and smiled in the way that made his scar smooth almost to invisibility.

"Hitsugaya. Perfect timing, as usual. Sorry I can't stand up to greet you."

"What happened?" Hitsugaya asked as he came to the bedside and folded his arms, tucking his parcel under one arm.

"Oh, I just got careless. A Hollow tried to hamstring me."

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He had seen Imada in battle too many times to buy this nonchalant act. Any Hollow with the strength to wound a Vice Captain was a formidable Hollow indeed. He would read the reports on this mission with interest when he got back to the division compound.

"Anyway, I have orders for you and Watari."

"A mission?"

"I know you'd like one, and I'm sorry I can't oblige. It's a meeting tomorrow. All second and third seats are expected to attend, but they tell me I won't be walking by tomorrow, so someone is going to have to go in my place. Watari, you'll go as acting second, and Hitsugaya, you'll go as acting third."

Watari nodded, somber as ever.

Hitsugaya nodded as well, and hoped his lack of enthusiasm for the prospect didn't show. Once, the thought of participating in functions alongside Hinamori would have pleased him, but that fantasy had long since passed, replaced by others. At the moment, he could think of few things less appealing than the thought of spending time at a meeting with Hinamori, Kira, and any other assortment of second and third seats who might have been listening to Hinamori's childhood stories…

"But there is a ray of hope in the affair," Imada went on, fixing Hitsugaya with a knowing look. "After the meeting, all officers present have been officially requested to assist Kurotsuchi-taichou in testing some of his new combat inventions. New dummy Hollows, or some such thing. It will be an excuse to draw some blades at least. Besides, you both need to get used to this sort of tedious business."

Hitsugaya wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he thought that Imada's gaze lingered on him speculatively for a moment. The moment passed quickly, however, and Imada scratched casually at the shadow of stubble along his jaw.

"Anyway, that's all. Sorry to interrupt your free time, but I thought I'd give you both some time to plan for re-arranging your schedule. Give squad oversight off to Jiroubou and Etsuko for the day."

They discussed division business for a few more minutes before a young woman carrying a tray of food came in and ushered them out, insisting that it was time for the Vice Captain's lunch. Imada didn't look particularly distressed by her insistence or her company, and Hitsugaya was quick to retreat, giving Watari a polite nod before heading off down a wide hallway which looked likely to lead him out of the labyrinthine building eventually. Normally he wouldn't have minded Watari's company for the walk back, but he'd had enough unexpected conversations for one day.

Unfortunately, the day was clearly not yet done with him.

"Ah, Hitsugaya-san!"

He turned, recognizing the reiatsu a moment before the sound of the gentle voice reached him. It had been years since he'd been this close to Unohana, but there was something about even her reiatsu – a strange, strong gentleness – that made her unforgettable. She was smiling at him now, her hands clasped serenely before her, standing in the hallway behind him as though she had been there all along – though he was absolutely certain that she hadn't been. His senses had grown sharper by immeasurable leaps and bounds since Hyourinmaru had granted him his bankai.

"Unohana-taichou."

"I thought I sensed your reiatsu," she said calmly. "You do seem to be one of those people whose reiatsu is heightened by strong emotion."

"Emotion?" he echoed, trying to sound surprised, calm, disinterested – but he knew he'd failed just by the sound of his own voice. He'd missed calm and disinterested by unfortunate miles. Defensive and frustrated was more like it. Deep in his chest, he could feel the dragon coiling restlessly, a feeling which had rarely come to him since achieving bankai had set most of it free.

Unohana's smile deepened. "Indeed. I see I am not helping the situation. Forgive me. But while I have you here, I think this is a good time for another medical inspection."

"I'm not injured."

"I can see that. But all seated officers must have regular inspections, Hitsugaya-san, and yours is once again long overdue."

"Do we have to do this now?"

"Of course not. I can send someone around to 7th Division to fetch you some time next week if you'd prefer. I hope they won't be interrupting any other business you might have."

He had a sudden image of an apologetic 4th Division representative bowing their way into division training in front of a whole slew of new recruits in order to drag him off, and decided that right now wasn't so bad a time. As Unohana had no doubt intended.

"All right."

"Good. Please come this way."

She attempted no small talk as she led him, and for that he was glad. They passed through several halls, and eventually came to a room with a view of the inner garden and fountain. He thought it might be the same room in which she'd inspected him before, but couldn't be certain. The room was not nearly as memorable as the woman whose presence dominated it.

"Please, sit down. And hold this, if you would."

She handed him a small silver ball, and he took it in his hand with a frown. "I remember."

"This should be a quick inspection, just like last time. I only need a few minutes. Please remember to hold it loosely."

He nodded, and focused on keeping not only his hand relaxed, but his entire body, as Unohana moved quietly around him, sensing him in ways he didn't entirely comprehend. He had been avoiding this meeting for a long time, for fear of what she might sense. Too late now. And if the ball he was holding truly could measure spirit power in the way she had claimed at their last meeting, then there was really no point in trying to hide things.

She said nothing as she worked, moving her hands in mysterious gestures, and finally came to stand in front of him again with another calm smile, holding out her hand for the ball. He passed it over, and she lifted it for inspection, carefully balanced on the tips of her fingers. The light inside of it was glowing so brightly blue that it reflected clearly in her eyes. She gazed into the ball, serene and expressionless, for several moments. Then she lifted her gaze and met his over the ball's glowing edge.

"Hitsugaya-san. You have made quite impressive progress in fully tapping your spirit power since last I saw you."

"I've been training."

"So I see." She lowered the ball and slipped it away somehow into her haori. "Last time, I said your power level was at least Vice Captain class. You have passed well beyond that now."

He stubbornly said nothing. If she was going to bring it out into the open, then he might as well invoke some equal footing, and insist on his right to silence.

"Possessing intrinsically high spirit power does not necessarily mean that one has mastered certain skills. Nor does the mastering of certain skills require only high spirit power. However, I think I would not be wrong if I were to make a guess about certain aspects of your training, Hitsugaya-san. Certain types of zanpakutou have a way of… driving their wielders. As your healer, I would merely request that you come to me, should the after-effects of your training require treatment. I suspect you have foregone such treatment in the past."

"Unohana-taichou…" he began, but found he didn't know how to say what he wanted without sounding rude.

"Please, do not be concerned. If you wish to continue as you are, I will respect your wishes. But I would ask you one question, if I may."

He nodded, trying not to tense, his hands closing into fists on his thighs as he kept his seat on the stool.

"Do you know why you are choosing to wait?"

He frowned, tempted to give a quick and dismissive answer, but clenched his teeth and forced himself to tread more carefully. He did not want to offend someone he might – if all went well – be working closely with in future.

"I do not require an answer," she said calmly, and though she was no longer smiling, the aura of gentleness about her remained.

For the first time in someone else's presence, Hitsugaya consciously allowed himself to release his own spirit power enough to open his senses fully, and so was able to fully note the way Unohana's reiatsu filled the room with a warmth that seeped into the surroundings so unobtrusively it was almost easy to overlook, to mistake for part of the aura of the place rather than of the person. Most people probably never realized the size of it, so gently did it envelop them.

"I would merely say this," she went on, "if you will permit me the presumption of unsolicited advice. Perfection can never be attained quickly in life, never gained on a schedule. And never will it come before honesty. If you have a goal, do not leave it too long on the horizon. Take it for your own sake."

"I…" he said, hesitating, then finally sighed. "I'll think about it."

"Good," she said, and smiled again. "I'm afraid I'm also going to have to insist that you come more regularly for check-ups. I will have to submit certain reports on your health, so we might as well get an early start."

He would have argued, but he was getting a very clear idea already that Unohana was not someone he wanted to annoy. If she wanted a head start, then he would make one too. He knew the three methods by which Captains gained their rank, and since he didn't plan on killing anybody it would be wise to have a few sets of friendly eyes when it came time to be observed by his future peers. He had no intention of failing, no matter who was watching, but allies couldn't hurt.

"But I should also say," she added, the sudden lilt in her voice almost cheerful, "that your practice at keeping your reiatsu in check has served you well in the end. I'm afraid you'll find it necessary to keep from projecting it, when dealing with most others. The last time I managed to get Zaraki-taichou in here for his check-up, his bad mood caused a most unfortunate fainting endemic in a large portion of my staff. It is always much simpler to deal with someone with a bit more self-control."

Hitsugaya slid off the stool, instinctively snapping his wrists to clear them of the kimono sleeves, even though he was carrying no sword at the moment to draw. "I'll keep that in mind," he said dryly, and gathered his much abused stationery parcel. By the sound of rattling inside, he was going to have to go straight back to the store to replace inksticks broken by a frustrated grip.

"Thank you." Unohana smiled at him, her deep eyes seeming to peer straight into him, seeing far more than the surface allowed. But somehow this didn't disturb him as much now as it might have before. " I look forward to your next visit, Hitsugaya-san."

* * *

Hitsugaya had a bad feeling about the officers' meeting from the moment he woke the next day, an inexplicable sense of foreboding that chased him all through the morning, so that by the time he and Watari arrived at the Central Court complex he felt as though he were walking into a battle. His combat instincts had always been good, and he did not expect to be proven wrong, though he couldn't yet guess the form the conflict might take. At the least he was glad that, as they were expected to assist in combat testing later on, he was carrying his zanpakutou. With Hyourinmaru at his back, he was willing to face anything. Even inter-division meetings.

"Watari," he said, as they climbed yet another seemingly endless flight of stairs on their way to the designated building, "how many of these things have you been to?"

"None." The older Shinigami's lean face looked even more somber than usual. A frown furrowed his brow, and his long-fingered hand kept rising near his obi and then falling away, as though he wished he could hold onto the hilt of the zanpakutou at his waist. "These sorts of meetings aren't common. Outside of emergencies, the Vice Captains meet officially once a year. Unofficially, who really knows. They operate in a different world most of the time, really. Even third seats don't deal much in their business, outside of our own divisions. I couldn't even begin to tell you how often the Captains meet."

Hitsugaya glanced speculatively in Watari's direction, then looked away again. He had never before seen the man so nervous. He had always liked Watari Kazuo, but he was beginning to realize that just because a man had courage in battle didn't mean he was cut out to face administrative entanglements. Not that he could really blame him. He himself would have much preferred facing a Hollow than this meeting.

"Third seats meet twice a year," Watari went on, "but this is the first time there's been a joint meeting with the Vice Captains since _I _become third seat."

"Do you know what the agenda is?"

"Imada-fukutaichou said it's to deal with recent imbalances in the distribution of new souls through the Rukongai districts."

"Fascinating," Hitsugaya said, struggling not to roll his eyes. He recognized that it was an important issue, and had slogged his way through more than enough reports on those numbers himself in the course of his duties. But it was hardly something he wanted to deal with on a day when he might otherwise have been training.

Watari, however, seemed not to hear him.

"But I think that the real reason they've called for all of us to attend is for Kurotsuchi-taichou's field testing."

"Field-testing _what_, is what I'd like to know," Hitsugaya muttered.

"As would I," Watari replied, looking suddenly more anxious than ever. "You hear too many stories of the things that come out of the Research…"

But they had arrived at the top of the stairway at last, stepping into an open plaza before a long, low building, and the sight of black-clad figures in the distance under the building's wide eaves silenced anything Watari might have had to say. You could never trust that echoes wouldn't carry, in between the stone walls of the Central Court.

Hitsugaya was in no hurry to cross the plaza to begin this bureaucratic affair, and fortunately Watari, whatever his reasons, seemed to share his reluctance. They approached the building slowly, and Hitsugaya was able to watch the officers who had already gathered in their mingling.

He recognized some faces, but not many. Hisagi Shuuhei was standing by a closed door with his bare arms crossed, apparently occupied with trying to ignore an argument taking place right in front of him as a small, sandy-haired woman squared off with a taller man wearing a white headband. He also recognized Kira Izuru, but none of the people with whom the 3rd Division Vice Captain was quietly conversing looked familiar.

No sight, yet, of Hinamori.

There was a sudden commotion, subtle but obvious, among those already gathered when a slender man turned the corner of the building to approach the main entrance with a woman at his side. Even from a distance she was instantly recognizable, and Hitsugaya sighed. One encounter with 10th Division's third seat was all he'd really needed.

"Eh?" Watari spoke up suddenly, and for the first time all day he smiled faintly as he glanced toward Hitsugaya. "I take it that sigh means you know Matsumoto-san?"

"No. Why would it mean that? Maybe I just don't like _him. _Who is he, anyway?" he added quickly, already eager to change the subject. He could just see where _that _conversation would have headed. He had never quite lived down that ridiculous sakura tree rumor with Yumiko.

"That's Nakada-fukutaichou. Well, I suppose you may as well call him Nakada-taichou, but he wouldn't like hearing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Nakada's been Vice Captain of the 10th for… you know, I'm not really sure. Some say decades, some say over a century. They've been waiting for the Central 46 or any of the other Captains to make some recommendation for a new 10th Division head, but all the rumors say that no one's been able to come up with a name that everyone could agree on. I don't even know if anyone has tried the exam in all that time. If they did, they kept it quiet, and word of failure hasn't spread. Captain class people are hard to find."

Hitsugaya said nothing. Fortunately, Watari didn't seem to expect him to contribute an opinion.

"I don't know much more than that, but Nakada-fukutaichou has a good reputation. He's been holding the 10th together, Captain or not. He still insists on going to every Vice Captain's meeting, as I understand it. Matsumoto-san still comes to the third seat meetings as well, but she's acting Vice Captain for the 10th for all intents and purposes."

Hitsugaya frowned, but still said nothing. Watari's information conjured up all sorts of disquieting thoughts.

In all his time striving for bankai and studying with the Captain's exam in mind, he had never stopped to think about _where _he would go, on the day the ultimate goal was met. When it came right down to it, he hadn't really expected to take control of a division right away. Sooner or later, even in Shinigami terms, Captains stepped down, and perhaps the arrival of fresher blood on the scene would instigate an eventual shift in hierarchies – that was what he'd assumed. But it might all be much more simple when it came to it, as it had been when he had left the academy and joined 7th Division. Where there were openings, someone must go.

He stared intently at Nakada Kisho as they drew nearer, wondering what sort of Vice Captain he really was, beyond what the rumors might say. A somber expression, long hair tied efficiently back, an unaltered standard black kimono – all pointed promisingly at someone with his business priorities in order. But superficial signs could be misleading, and so Hitsugaya hoped to get a good look at the man's eyes to –

His wandering thoughts met an abrupt end, however, as the pressure of a large, powerful reiatsu entered the plaza, approaching from behind.

Hitsugaya froze in his tracks, fingers curling into loose fists. He took a moment to ensure that he had his own reiatsu tightly in check before turning his head to see who had arrived, though he was sure that only a Captain could have projected that sort of reiatsu.

And there was certainly no mistaking Kurotsuchi Mayuri's distinctive silhouette.

Hitsugaya had never met Kurotsuchi face to face before, but he had always made exceptions for entertaining rumors where Captains were concerned. Kurotsuchi had more than his fair share, none of them good.

And when a moment's observation made it clear that Kurotsuchi was in fact walking across the plaza straight toward him – his approach was too direct to be mistaken – Hitsugaya understood the sense of foreboding that had been plaguing him since morning.

"What is he…?" Watari began in a whisper, then fell silent.

Hitsugaya suddenly wished that Watari would move on, leaving him behind. He would have liked the authority in that moment to issue orders that would allow him to get through this encounter without an eavesdropper immediately at hand.

"Well then," Kurotsuchi said as he drew nearer, his high voice carrying clearly over the plaza flagstones, though he spoke in a subdued, almost lilting, tone. "This would be the young genius Komamura and Yamamoto have been keeping so carefully under wraps, it seems. Most curious behavior, one might say. Makes me wonder what they're planning for you."

Hitsugaya only stared back in silence as he tried to decide the best method of dealing with the man. Bad reputation or not, Kurotsuchi was still a Captain. Whether or not that should automatically earn him respect, it certainly made him dangerous.

But the dragon was coiling in his chest again, and he could practically feel Hyourinmaru vibrating at his back.

Was this really something he needed to worry about anymore?

"Oh?" Kurotsuchi reached them at last, and tilted his masked head like a curious animal, meeting Hitsugaya's gaze. "Those are interesting eyes you have, little genius. Full of threat. You're not at all afraid of me, are you? Very interesting."

"Should I be?" Hitsugaya replied in as bland a tone as he could manage.

"That depends on who you ask. Personally I think I'm a very generous man. I would have treated you well, in my division. But there's no point regretting lost opportunities, when instead you can be making new ones. So let's make the most of the day together, shall we? Nemu."

"Yes, Mayuri-sama," the woman behind him replied, stepping forward. Hitsugaya had seen her, but chosen to keep his focus on the Captain rather than his adjutant. She was most likely the 12th's Vice Captain, but she had kept far back as they walked, her eyes lowered, and her reiatsu almost indistinguishable beside Kurotsuchi's. Something about her made Hitsugaya immediately uncomfortable, but he knew now was not the time to become distracted.

"Get these other fools inside and start the meeting," Kurotsuchi instructed calmly, his eyes never leaving Hitsugaya's. "I think that I'll have this boy take care of the testing for today."

"Yes, Mayuri-sama."

A muscle twitched in his tightening jaw at the word 'boy,' but Hitsugaya determinedly made no reply. He could feel Watari looking at him anxiously before following the woman Nemu, but he didn't tear his gaze away from Kurotsuchi in order to acknowledge it. A moment ago he would have been only too glad to be spared the meeting and get straight to combat testing, but now it seemed clear the matter was not going to be nearly as simple as he'd hoped.

He pondered, for a moment, questioning Kurotsuchi's decision, but decided there was no way he could do so without attracting a great deal of unwanted attention, not to mention 12th Division's ill favor. It might cause problems for Komamura, and that was reason enough to swallow his pride. At least for now.

There was the sound of distant muttering far behind him as he followed Kurotsuchi out of the plaza, but he could make out none of the words, and even the echoes were soon lost as they turned down a long street lined with tall buildings. A cool wind whistled down the empty path, snapping the ends of their clothing, and Hitsugaya watched the odd twitching movements of Kurotsuchi's fingers with narrowed eyes, trying to make some sense of the man. Or at least of whatever physical strengths he might possess.

"I don't normally concern myself with other divisions, you know," Kurotsuchi said as they walked. "Other Captains can do as they please with their subordinates, so long as they don't interfere with my work. But I appreciate skill, and the word _genius _does catch my attention. Tell me… Hitsugaya, isn't it?"

"Yes," he answered stiffly.

"You should be honored that I remember the name."

"You have no reason to."

"Eh, I have no patience for modesty," Kurotsuchi said, tensing his fingers in a jerky snap, then tapping one long nail against the palm of his hand as he walked.

"It's not modesty," Hitsugaya replied, closing his own hands into fists. "I have no desire to attract attention to myself."

Kurotsuchi laughed, a sound as jerky as the movements of his fingers, high and disquieting. But whatever else he might have said in reply was lost to the moment as they stepped out into another plaza, this one surrounded on all sides by tall, featureless walls. The buildings were so closely packed together here that the area felt more like a walled pit than a courtyard, and it would have been entirely empty if not for the small cluster of people dressed in strange lab coats on one side – and what looked like nearly two dozen large, deformed monster shapes, all standing or crouched in perfect stillness.

"As I said, this is a good opportunity, boy," Kurotsuchi said, moving across the plaza toward the waiting men and creatures. "I get to test my inventions and have my curiosity sated at the same time. And if you happen to prove unequal to the task, well, that will be no great loss to me. You're not _mine_, after all." He stopped at the center of the plaza and turned at last to face Hitsugaya, his bared teeth flashing in a static grin.

Hitsugaya planted his feet and crossed his arms. "You want me to fight all of these alone?"

"If you do not think you can handle it, then perhaps you're not even worthy of my curiosity after all."

"I'm not here for your curiosity," he said coldly, already past the end of his limited patience. He reached up and closed his hand around Hyourinmaru. "Let's just get this over with."

"Heh. So be it." Without even a warning step, Kurotsuchi vanished from sight and reappeared at the side of the plaza, near his subordinates and monstrous inventions.

Hitsugaya drew his sword, watching the bustling around those unmoving creatures warily. They were clearly some type of dummy Hollow, with shapes as varied as any he had seen among real Hollows in the field. Small to large, some with arms and some without – all of them indistinguishable from the real thing except for the lack of a glow in the emptiness of their masked eyes. That, and their stillness as Shinigami moved around them.

Hitsugaya pushed his right foot slightly forward, testing the flatness of the paving stones by their scrape under his sandal. Good ground. No place to hide. No obstacles. He lowered the tip of his sword into a ready guard position, and sought to get a good spirit sense of the enemy. But he realized, as soon as the first of the creatures began to move under Kurotsuchi's direction, that unlike real Hollows these things had no spirit presence at all, making their movements impossible to sense with anything but the eyes.

He made a soft noise of irritation and adjusted his grip more comfortably around Hyourinmaru. The temptation to dismiss these inventions as tools for mere students or recruits was strong, but he knew that the Vice Captains would not have been requested for this battle test if it were truly so trivial a matter. So when three of the creatures broke away from the waiting file and began to advance, he was alert and ready.

Yet even so, when the first creature to come close – crawling along the ground on six legs – suddenly sprouted a tentacle that shot toward him at nearly shunpo speed, Hitsugaya was more than a bit surprised.

But he hadn't spent years training for nothing, and no dummy Hollow was going to move faster than Hyourinmaru's frozen tail; after surviving the dragon, little else managed to seem threatening.

He dodged the tentacle, seeing as it went by that it was tipped with a pincer-like claw. At a glance it was hard to tell for certain, but he thought it seemed to be dripping a faint green ooze. Poison? Some other kind of debilitating agent? He frowned as he twisted around, bringing his sword down in a sharp arc that severed the clawed tip from the retreating tentacle. Poison was one hell of an addition to dummy Hollows, if they _were _ever to be fielded against students or recruits. The things didn't move mechanically either, but with all the fluidity an experienced Shinigami could expect from the real thing.

Still, for Vice Captains, or for third seats, even advanced models such as these wouldn't prove a true challenge. So what was he missing?

The creatures worked in admirable unison, more so than real Hollows would have. The first group came three at once and attempted to surround him. He leapt to the side, avoiding a sharp arm thrusting at him like a spear, used the large flat head of the second creature as a platform from which to jump, and descended on the third with a clean downward stroke. He aimed for the mask as usual, unsure of how the result might differ – but even anticipating oddity, he hadn't been expecting the explosion that followed.

He thought he could hear Kurotsuchi's laughter as the force of the explosion threw him back. Scowling, he twisted in midair, pushed off the ground with one hand to turn his flight into a manageable flip, and shook burning cinders out of his hair with a sharp snap of his head before leaping back into the fray. He danced around the attack of a dummy Hollow that looked like a serpent with spider legs, and braced Hyourinmaru in both hands over his shoulder as he skidded under the creature's arching body and leapt up, slicing it cleanly in half from bottom to top. This time, he was ready for the explosion, and a swift shunpo took him easily out of harm's way.

He turned to the third monster, ready for its attack, but found that it was just standing there, swaying slightly as though in a breeze, or moved by some internal music. It seemed to be watching him, but without any spirit force to sense or eyes to see, it was hard to tell for certain.

But he did not have the time to decipher the mystery, because the second wave of creatures were already on him, and this time Kurotsuchi did not seem content with sending them in small groups. At least ten swooped down on him at once, the smaller ones slithering or leaping in below the larger ones so that only a few could reach him at a time, though many shot tentacles or barbs indiscriminately into the melee.

A reddish dart came flying straight toward his face right through the explosion cloud of a fallen monster, and Hitsugaya deflected it at the last moment with a reverse sweep of his sword's spine. The dart ricocheted off to the side and embedded itself in the wall of a distant building with such force that he could hear the crack clearly; a hiss of stone being liquified by some poison followed.

He snarled as he traced the dart's path back to its source, and descended on the monster with an aerial leap and a cry to lend greater strength to his strike. It exploded like the others, but spurted a red liquid as it did so that scoured holes into the flagstones like acidic blood. He caught the red spray with a sweep of his sleeve, saving his face.

What the hell was Kurotsuchi thinking? Even a skilled officer could have been caught by dart or spray moving at those speeds! Just how was he planning to use these things?

Hitsugaya took three more down in quick succession before noticing the dummy Hollow from the first round again – still standing motionless except for that slight sway, hovering at the edge of battle. Watching him.

He didn't like it. Whatever it was doing, that thing had to go down.

But before he could make a move in that direction, what seemed like the entire remainder of Kurotsuchi's monstrous army descended on him.

He was too conscious of being watched, and something about the nature of these creatures made him uncomfortable; he wasn't getting any sense of pleasure or accomplishment out of this, as he would in normal training.

"Fine," he muttered, raising Hyourinmaru to block a creature's open mouthed lunge for his head. The blade caught in the monster's teeth, and with a sharp snap of his wrists Hitsugaya twisted the sword so that white teeth cracked and shot from the mask in shattered pieces. Another twist, and the head was split. "Fast and ugly it is, then."

He counted them off – one shunpo, one strike, for each monster. They exploded behind him, so that when all movement ceased only the combined smoke of their deaths remained, swirling about him.

That, and the swaying dummy Hollow.

He shifted his grip on Hyourinmaru for a low charge, but froze when a sudden light appeared in the creature's eyes. It wasn't the same as the glow he would have expected in a Hollow's, but there was an undeniable _awareness_ there.

This time, he was certain that he could hear Kurotsuchi's soft laughter.

The creature lunged for him, moving faster than any of the others.

Hitsugaya shifted to the side to evade it – only to find it moving as though in mirror image to his own steps.

It lashed out at him with a bladed arm, but a clean swipe with Hyourinmaru severed the limb. Only to see it grow back again almost instantly in a strange bubbling of white flesh.

"Tch. That's not enough, Kurotsuchi!"

He lunged in, but again the creature moved as though it had anticipated his movements, avoiding his strike and stepping off directly into the path he had next intended to take.

In a sudden flash of understanding, Hitsugaya realized the truth.

There _was _an awareness there. And it _had _been watching him – learning his movements.

_Learning. _

Past time to end this.

Two shunpo put him behind the creature at a speed that no mere machine could follow. He let Hyourinmaru fall to his side and raised his left hand. He had never been a natural at kidou like Hinamori, but years of study for a Captain's rank meant _something. _

"Hadou number fifty-four," he said, dropping the incantation and focusing his reiatsu more strongly on the spell instead. The creature was turning to face him, but it wasn't fast enough. "_Haien!_"

Flame burned bright and strong, and the dummy Hollow was incinerated so cleanly that no cinder and no explosion remained.

Hitsugaya lowered his hand. Still frowning, he gave Hyourinmaru a final flick to clear any ash that might have clung to the blade, and sheathed the zanpakutou across his back. Only then did he turn toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Ho," Kurotsuchi drawled. "Impressive. But you didn't even release your zanpakutou, and here I was looking forward to seeing the sword they're calling the strongest of the ice and snow family."

"Kurotsuchi," Hitsugaya said coldly. "That was a mod-soul, wasn't it? Those things shouldn't even exist in Soul Society anymore."

"A mod-soul? Don't insult me. I have nothing to do with those defective failures. My inventions are far more sophisticated, and, I should say, far more manageable. That was merely an artificial intelligence, designed for reconnaissance and tactical analysis. It analyzed your technique quite well, didn't it?"

"Not well enough!" he snapped, his temper rising. "More manageable or not, mod-souls are still illegal!"

"My, my, aren't you concerned with propriety! I suppose that's why you didn't release your zanpakutou, is it? A necessary restraint for Captains, certainly."

Hitsugaya fell silent, letting his glare speak for him.

The black interior of Kurotsuchi's mask-like face shifted with his grin, and he cocked his head to tap at one of the golden knobs on the side of his face with his elongated fingernail. "My artificial souls are not the only ones who watch fights with analysis in mind. I would say that Komamura did well with you, but I know better than to credit that fool with any such thing. Only keep this in mind, little genius. I don't care about other men's ambitions, but I _do _care when men of ambition try to butt into _my_ business. Keep that in mind for the future, and you and I will have no reason to find ourselves at crossed purposes."

Hitsugaya might have found a reply, to defend Komamura if not himself, but Kurotsuchi's subordinates had now come close enough to overhear as they busied themselves gathering the remnants of their destroyed creations. So Hitsugaya merely crossed his arms and let just enough of his reiatsu seep through to sharpen his stare.

"Is that all?" he asked coolly. "Are we done here?"

"Yes. Though it really is a shame. I would so have liked to see what makes you tick, up close and in… detail."

Hitsugaya turned away, took one step, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "I don't care about your ambitions either," he said. "But I don't expect to find you in _my _business, if the time comes."

One of the nearby 12th Division technicians gasped in surprise, but Hitsugaya no longer cared if he had been overheard.

"Oho," Kurotsuchi chuckled. "It looks like we understand one another, then."

This time he did not look back as he left, and he remained angry enough – wondering whether or not he should report what he suspected about Kurotsuchi's latest combat invention – that he did not notice the presence of another reiatsu nearby, one that wasn't the 12th Division Captain's, until he was nearly out of the plaza. This one was strong, but not nearly at a Captain's level. Someone hiding their true strength, or…

He looked up, pinpointing the source, and sucked in a quiet breath in unhappy surprise.

Standing at the top of one of the tall buildings, affording him a clear view of the plaza and probably all that had happened there, was 10th Division's Vice Captain, Nakada Kisho. With him, his equal in height, but hovering behind his shoulder and radiating a concern that could be felt in her reiatsu even though she was clearly trying to suppress it, was 4th Division's Vice Captain, Kotetsu Isane.

They were both staring down at him, Isane almost sheepishly, but Nakada with a somber intensity that could not be missed even at a distance.

Hitsugaya met his gaze briefly and sighed, then turned away and kept walking.

Perhaps Unohana had shared certain information with her Vice Captain. Perhaps Watari had said something at the meeting to catch Nakada's attention. Perhaps he simply hadn't controlled his reiatsu during the fight as well as he'd thought.

Whatever the reason, he had clearly been watched.

He was probably running out of time in which to make the decision on his own.

* * *

Months went by without any significant incident or upset, winter came around again, and Hitsugaya was beginning to hope that his interlude with Kurotsuchi hadn't disrupted things as much as he'd feared.

He had finally mastered hadou and bakudou spells into the eighties to his satisfaction, though he knew he needed to work more on the fluidity of his incantations when approaching the nineties. And with the mastery of the high level Kyoumon barrier he felt that his kidou was finally ready for any test they might throw at him at a Captain's level.

His hakuda still wasn't as good as he would like, and he knew he was no shunpo specialist, such as Kuchiki Byakuya was rumored to be. But both arts, he felt, were at a sufficient level.

With sword, there was no question. Even Hyourinmaru seemed satisfied.

So for the first time in years, he was taking it easy on a training day. He had spent the last four days leading Hollow hunting missions in the countryside outside East Rukongai, and was ready for a day of rest. Long days of work made him even hungrier than usual, which was a feat in its own way, and he had a terrible craving for watermelon that no amount of sweetbean buns seemed able to cure.

He was just eating the sixth bun – or was it the seventh? – when a polite rap came at the door to his room. He struggled to swallow quickly as he stood up from his idle contemplation of the garden, and tried to make himself look a bit less like he'd been lounging around thinking of watermelons as he called for the visitor to enter.

The door slid open and Hinamori stepped lightly in.

"Good afternoon, Hitsugaya-kun! Isn't it a beautiful day?"

"Oh, it's you, Hinamori," he said, relaxing.

"What kind of greeting is that? Of course it's me!"

"What do you mean, _of course?_" he retorted. "Why should I have been expecting you? How did you get into the compound anyway?"

"I _am _a Vice Captain you know, Hitsugaya-kun. They'll let me in most anywhere if I ask nicely." She smiled, as bright as usual, and only then did Hitsugaya notice that she seemed to be holding something behind her back.

"What are you doing, Hinamori?"

"Ah!" she cried, suddenly spotting the half-empty plate of buns on the floor near the mat where he'd been sitting. "You're already eating! Why didn't you wait for me?"

Hitsugaya sighed and gave up entirely on maintaining any sort of propriety. He flopped back down onto his mat and made a show of picking up another bun, turning and inspecting it carefully as though for flaws.

"I don't know. Why on earth _should _I have waited?"

"Hitsugaya-kun, don't tell me you've honestly forgotten what day it is!"

"Moron! Apparently I did!"

"Well, you're just lucky that _I _didn't." She stomped over to him, but then knelt beside him with a stubborn grace. "Here. This is for you. Happy birthday, Shiro-chan!"

For a moment he just gaped at her, bun held forgotten in his hand. Then he set the bun aside and carefully took the wrapped parcel she was holding out to him.

"My… birthday."

"You did forget, didn't you? Really, Hitsugaya-kun, you need to pay more attention to these sorts of things! Don't you notice when time goes by? You remember _my _birthday every year, why can't you seem to remember your own?"

"Of course I remember!" he snapped. "But I'm not about to go around celebrating my own birthday by myself, am I?"

"Well, that's why I'm here! And as soon as you open your present I'm going to treat you to a big, four course meal, just as you like them. And you'd better not say you're too full of sweet buns to eat it!"

"I…" he began, but was interrupted by another rap at the door.

"I bet that's someone else who managed to remember your birthday."

"I bet it's not!" he retorted instinctively, then clenched his teeth, determined not to let her goad him into more infantile behavior in front of anyone else, and got to his feet again. "Come in."

This time when the door opened it was one of the officers currently rotating through 7th Division's 14th seat. Hitsugaya recognized his face, but couldn't immediately remember the man's name, so he settled for a cool, "What is it?"

"Your pardon, Hitsugaya-san. But there's a visitor here to see you."

"Who is it?"

"Nakada-fukutaichou, sir. He's waiting for you in the meditation gallery."

Hitsugaya felt an emptiness open up in his stomach.

"Eh?" Hinamori said curiously. "Do you know Nakada-fukutaichou, Hitsugaya-kun?"

"Thank you," Hitsugaya said to the officer at his door. "Tell him I'll be right there."

The door closed, and Hitsugaya turned back to Hinamori, returning his unopened birthday gift. "Here, hold onto this for me. I'll be back to open it as soon as I'm done."

"But Hitsugaya-kun…"

"I don't know why he's here," he said, though he realized the words were probably a lie. He had a pretty good idea as to why Nakada Kisho was here to see him. The man simply couldn't have picked a worse time. "But I'll be right back."

"Well… all right. I'll wait here. But don't expect there to be any buns left if you take too long!"

After a moment's thought, he decided to take Hyourinmaru with him. If this conversation played out as he feared it would, then Hyourinmaru ought to be there. He felt the zanpakutou's spirit stirring as he settled the sword across his back, but no internal voice offered an opinion.

Hinamori watched him handle the sword with a suddenly serious expression, but she said nothing until he was almost out the door.

"Hitsugaya-kun. Be sure you come back. I want to talk to you about something very important later."

He just nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and slipped out.

It took him several minutes to navigate the compound's corridors and arrive outside the paper-screened doors of the meditation gallery. Fortunately there weren't usually many people in this area of the compound at this time of day, and today was no exception. He paused for a moment outside the door, made a conscious effort to smooth the frown from his face, then opened the screen and stepped in.

Nakada Kisho was standing in contemplation of one of the large ink painting scrolls on the wall, beneath which a bowl of sand held two burning incense sticks. He turned as Hitsugaya entered, and gave a polite half-bow.

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Hitsugaya-san. I'm afraid we haven't been formally introduced. I am Nakada Kisho, Vice Captain of the 10th Division."

"I know. You seem to know my name already."

"I do. I must admit that I have been… asking around, about you."

"No offense, Nakada-fukutaichou, but…"

"Why am I here, seeking a private audience with another division's fourth seat officer? It is a good question. But instead of answering it, I would ask a favor of you, Hitsugaya-san."

Hitsugaya raised his eyebrows in surprise, realized he had crossed his arms defensively, and uncrossed them. "What favor is that?"

Nakada stared at him in silence for a moment, and now at last they were close enough for Hitsugaya to see his eyes clearly. They were dark and steady. Trustworthy eyes.

"I would ask you not to dissemble with me," Nakada said, clasping his hands behind his back. He had come without his zanpakutou. Hitsugaya wasn't sure what to make of that gesture. "I would ask you," he went on, "to listen carefully to my words, and not make any quick decisions about what I am about to say."

Hitsugaya sighed softly, and looked awkwardly away from the other man's face, focusing instead on the slow moving spirals of incense smoke as they rose through the air. "I know you saw my exchange with Kurotsuchi," he said at last.

"Yes. Kurotsuchi-taichou – " and Nakada put a slight but unmistakable emphasis on the honorific " – seemed very interested in taking you aside for his test. I confess that I had not given you undue thought before that moment, though of course I have heard of you. Word of your achievements have spread for years, but until very recently those rumors have not acknowledged the extent of the true power I sensed from you when you fought those inventions for Kurotsuchi-taichou. I am not a gifted warrior, Hitsugaya-san, and I will never achieve a Captain's rank, but my _senses _have always been keen. I know what I saw that day."

"I didn't release my zanpakutou."

"Unnecessary. And even if I'd mistaken what I sensed that day, there is no mistake about what I am sensing now. There are qualities other than a Shinigami's reiatsu that an observant man may measure."

"You asked me not to dissemble. In return, I'll ask you not to dance around the issue. If you have something to say, please just say it plainly so we can… finish this."

Unexpectedly, Nakada smiled. "Direct. That will serve you well, in 10th Division."

Hitsugaya almost snorted. "_I'm _being direct? I know you've been without a Captain for a long time, but don't you think you're being a little hasty?"

"Perhaps I am." Nakada turned back to the ink painting and sighed, his hands gripping each other more tightly behind his back. "You must understand, that while I appreciate the honor and responsibility of my position, Vice Captainship was never something to which I aspired. It had always been my intention to serve in the Gotei 13 for a few centuries, and then, if I could prove worthy, to take my experience and my study of various disciplines to the Central 46 as an adjutant to the councilors. Perhaps someday to become a member of the council myself."

Hitsugaya was glad that Nakada had his back to turned to him, because he couldn't quite control the expression that crossed his face. As important as he knew the Central 46 to be, he couldn't imagine _wanting _to choose a life calling that would not allow him the chance to feel Hyourinmaru's grip against his palms or know how it felt to fly on icy wings.

Nakada laughed softly then, and said, "Certainly my former Captain thought me… out of my mind, as he put it. I rose to my position late in his Captainship, and we… lost him… very soon after. I have done my best to hold the division together since that time, but it is _past_ time that a true Captain stepped in. In the Gotei 13, a Captain is the heart of his division. The 10th has been too long without a true leader."

"And what makes you think I could be that leader?" Hitsugaya asked bluntly.

"I can't know for certain. But I do know that at the very least, someone capable of passing the Captain's exam appears so rarely that I cannot let an opportunity pass. The division deserves better, and so does Matsumoto."

"Matsumoto," Hitsugaya echoed, and the memory of a wide open kimono and erratically waved jar of sake leapt all too vividly into his mind. "Why should your third seat's position matter in this conversation?" he asked, with a growing sense of alarm.

"I wish to step down from my position, Hitsugaya-san. It is past time. And it is certainly past time for Matsumoto Rangiku to take a Vice Captain's rank officially. She passed the Vice Captain's exam decades ago, and has been performing all of a Vice Captain's functions since. Everyone in the Seireitei acknowledges her rank, and I have been trying to convince her to take my place for many years, but she is… stubborn, about these sorts of things." Nakada met Hitsugaya's gaze for a moment, then, seeing his expression, sighed. "I should have thought that you of all people would understand the danger of judging someone based on their appearance."

Hitsugaya felt the sting of temper mingled with the more subtle heat of shame, but shrugged them both off as best he could to say, "Is this really what we should be talking about right now?"

"Perhaps it is. Truthfully, I was not sure how to go about this in the first place. It is certainly unorthodox, and I have no authority to make you any offers, nor a right to request anything from you. Should I admit my selfishness in this, by saying that a Captain for the 10th would allow me to move on, as I desire? Would that ease your mind about my motivations?"

The man asked the question so earnestly that Hitsugaya almost winced, feeling ashamed again, though he couldn't quite decide why. He looked away, folding his arms, and stared at the ink painting for several long moments.

It was common knowledge in the division that Komamura had his own private meditation hall, and that he spent much time there, and now Hitsugaya thought he could understand why. It was easy to let thoughts drift away on the coils of incense smoke as they made patterns against painted landscapes. Easier than facing them head on, at least. He had never been much good at meditation; it always felt to him like running away. He knew that probably meant that he should relax more or something, but you couldn't be good at everything…

He sighed, and turned back to Nakada.

"I'll think about what you've said, though it's not really up to me, is it?"

Nakada Kisho smiled faintly. "I suspect you haven't really heard the rumors that go around about you."

Hitsugaya tried not to scowl. "I can't say that I want to, either."

"Well then. I have taken up enough of your time. If you will consider my words, that is all that I can ask. Thank you for speaking with me."

He bowed, and Hitsugaya returned the gesture awkwardly, then stood alone in the empty hall for several minutes after Nakada left, wondering if he should believe in signs, and if opportunities could truly be lost if one didn't act quickly enough. He would have liked to talk to Hyourinmaru, but he could tell, just by the quality of the coldness at his back, that his zanpakutou would not speak to him tonight. Hyourinmaru had an inconvenient habit of deciding that his wielder ought to work things out alone at all of the most frustrating times.

Hitsugaya's thoughts were turned so far inwards as he made his way back to his quarters that he completely forgot Hinamori would be waiting for him until he opened the door and saw her sitting on his bed with his plate of buns on her lap. It had been so long since they had been truly alone like this.

"That was quicker than I expected," she said around a mouthful of bun, blushing slightly as she swallowed. "What did Nakada-fukutaichou want?"

"He wanted to admire Komamura's ink paintings."

"Well if you don't want to answer my question just say so!"

"I don't want to answer your question," he said, removing Hyourinmaru and placing the sword carefully on its stand.

"AAH! You are so… "

Then suddenly she sighed, and when Hitsugaya turned back to face her she had her hands clasped tight around the outside edges of the plate, staring down at the buns with an almost pained expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked, slightly alarmed by her abrupt change in demeanor.

"Shiro-chan…" she began softly, without lifting her gaze. "I want to ask you something. And please, just tell me the truth."

He didn't like the sound of that, but he swallowed his misgivings and said, "All right."

"Have you… been doing special training lately?"

Well, he'd said he wouldn't lie.

"Yes."

Her hands closed tighter around the sides of the plate. "You know… I've never even seen your shikai."

"I don't release my shikai except in battle, Hinamori. I've told you that."

"I know. You never did tell me why, but I understand. Maybe it took me a while, but I _do _see it. Your strength. I do, Shiro-chan."

"Hinamori…"

"Everyone talks about you… everyone says you're a genius, and I know it. I'm so proud of you, I can't even say. But I guess I never… I didn't really realize…"

She drew a deep breath, and her head fell even further, so that he could no longer see her eyes at all, and the ends of her hair nearly swept the buns on the plate in her lap.

He wished that she would stop talking, both for her sake and his own. She was being so emotional, he didn't know where to begin to tell her to stop, or not to worry, or… whatever it was she wanted to hear.

As children, it would have been easy. An insult, a kick, anything.

But he had already walked away from all that. He'd walked away in order to find a way to be something new and different, in her life and his own.

He had no idea how to comfort her anymore.

Probably her own Captain knew her better now than he ever would again.

"Shiro-chan," she said, so softly it was almost a whisper. "Have you been training for your bankai?"

He was quiet for several moments, staring at the top of her bowed head. He couldn't stand seeing her like this. She didn't even want to meet his eyes.

He looked away.

"Yes," he said.

And because his gaze was on the corner of the room, he didn't see the plate of buns flying at his head until it was too late to block.

"OI!"

"_Why didn't you tell me?_"

"Hinamori!" he growled, smacking half of a broken bun from his hair, sure that he was probably smearing bean paste all over the place. "What is your problem?"

"What is _my_ problem? Hitsugaya-kun, how _could_ you do something like this without telling me? Training for bankai can be dangerous, you know! And you've probably been doing it in secret too, with no one to – argh, it makes me so mad!"

"Why should it make you mad? It's none of your business what I – "

"None of my business? _None of my business?_"

"Well, _is _it?" he demanded hotly, giving his hair one last frustrated scrub, and wishing fervently that he wasn't _still _shorter than her, damn it all. "You've been so busy being one of Aizen's subordinates, being a Vice Captain, pursuing your own dreams and goals. Why should you have paid any attention to mine?"

"Sh… Shiro-chan… is that how you really feel?"

"Look, it doesn't matter how I feel about that. That's your business. You're strong, and you have a right to want to be stronger. You want to follow Aizen, and that's fine. Do it. But I have my own path to walk, Hinamori. I'm going to go as far as it will take me, and I'm not going to wait for anyone to say that it's okay, or to say that I can't, or that I should. Not even you. What I'm capable of and when I choose to do it, that's nobody's business but mine. I'm not…"

He stopped, caught by Hinamori's eyes, round with amazement, and by the sudden sound of his own words.

Perhaps the time had come after all.

"You're not…" Hinamori said weakly, her hands moving suddenly together, her fingers interlacing. "You're not… a child anymore. I know. I'm… sorry."

He held his breath for a moment, caught between a sense of long awaited release, to have finally said these things to her face instead of to her memory, and of guilt, for making her look so… so small.

"Aah!" he released a frustrated, heavy sigh. "Don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for, idiot."

She smiled weakly. "Not even for throwing the plate at your head?"

"No. Because you're going to buy me dinner, _and _more buns."

"I will. But… Shiro-chan… I just want to say… I really am proud of you. And you don't need to tell me, because I can see it in your eyes, and I should have seen it earlier probably, but you… you're not just training for bankai anymore. Are you?"

He sighed again, wishing she'd let the topic go. But he wasn't going to lie. "No," he said.

For a long moment she said nothing, only stared at him, her eyes full of so much emotion that he couldn't really work out _what _she was feeling or thinking.

When she closed the distance between them and reached out slowly, he let her. For the sake of old memories; for a moment, this moment, which he knew with sudden certainty would never come again. They had been on different, distant paths for years, but now, with this final step on his road, there would be a whole new kind of distance. He had already accepted that. He wasn't going to allow himself regrets.

But one last pat on the head, he could allow.

She scrubbed her hand gently through his hair, smiling, her eyes shimmering.

"I guess I really _can't _call you Shiro-chan anymore."

"Took you long enough," he groused.

"Just promise me that someday I'll be able to see your bankai, all right?"

"I'm not making any promise of the sort! You don't just do something like that in public because you feel like it, Hinamori!"

"Yes, yes, always _arguing_, Hitsugaya-kun! Come on, come on, let's go eat dinner, and then you're going to open your present, because I can see you've already run down your brushes."

"Were you looking through my desk? And you just _told _me what my present is, moron!"

"Yes, yes, come on," she babbled cheerily, her small hands pushing between his shoulder blades, propelling him towards the door. "Let's go, Hitsugaya-_taichou_…"

It was the only time Hinamori ever called him _taichou._

* * *

He waited until spring to approach Komamura. The decision had been made, in the moment he had yelled at Hinamori. But he wanted to wait until winter was passed; he didn't want there to be any chance that someone would assume his bankai could only retain its full strength in cold weather.

He sent Komamura a written request for a private meeting along with his batch of monthly fourth seat reports. And because he had known that of course Imada would see his reports, and his message, even before Komamura did, he was not surprised when the Vice Captain walked into his office to deliver Komamura's reply.

"Hitsugaya. Komamura-taichou wants to see you."

"I'll go now."

Imada did not speak again until Hitsugaya was passing him on the way to the door, and then the large, scarred man put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hitsugaya. I get the feeling we may not have another officer's meeting together, after this. Am I right?"

"Maybe."

"Well then. Whatever happens, promise me you'll share a drink with me, before you go."

"Not a party…" he said warily.

"No, not a party. You think I could have been your Vice Captain for years and not know you better than that?"

"Imada…" Hitsugaya said slowly, his eyebrow twitching in spite of his best effort to control it. "You're a terrible liar…"

"Oh, all right. Just a small party. It's not like you have all that many friends who would want to drink you off, anyway."

And with that, as though he had just told one of his usual jokes at the end of one of their meetings, Imada laughed loudly at himself and slapped Hitsugaya's shoulder so hard that Hitsugaya could feel it resonate down into his toes.

"I'm not going to thank you for that, you know," Hitsugaya muttered.

"Go on, Komamura-taichou is waiting for you."

Komamura was waiting in his office, and when Hitsugaya entered he was surprised to find the large 7th Division Captain sitting behind his desk. It was the first time he had seen Komamura with a writing brush held – somehow perfectly poised – in his large, gloved hand.

"I am writing a letter to be sent to Yamamoto-soutaichou," Komamura said without preamble, as Hitsugaya came to stand before his desk. "Am I to inform him that Hitsugaya Toushiro wishes to put himself forward for the Captain's examination?"

Hitsugaya drew a deep breath, clenched his fists, and said, "Yes."

"Very well," said Komamura, his brush moving smoothly. For a while the only sounds in the room were that of two Shinigami breathing, and soft brush bristles whispering over parchment. Then Komamura set the brush aside, placed his large hands on the desk to either side of the letter, and rose to his full height, his helmet tilted down toward Hitsugaya. "You came very close to having the recommendation of the six Captains you would need in order to possibly bypass this examination."

Hitsugaya forced himself to turn what might have been a round expression of surprise into a frown instead. "Six… recommendations? Who… why…"

"As for who," Komamura said calmly, "you had my recommendation. Unohana-taichou and Ukitake-taichou also submitted their recommendations this last year."

He was not entirely surprised about Unohana, but… "Ukitake?" he asked skeptically.

"He has shown an interest in you since the day he visited our training, when word came of Akita's death. Though I suspect his interest goes further back, perhaps even to the day we observed your final student testing. As for the rest, Kurotsuchi-taichou also gave his recommendation."

There was nothing he could say to _that_ that wouldn't sound utterly foolish, so he said nothing. But he realized in that moment that it might be a mistake to judge Kurotsuchi Mayuri too quickly.

"It is possible he did so thinking it would prove a slight to _me_," Komamura said then, much to Hitsugaya's surprise. The large Captain sounded pensive. His words were unguarded and open, as though the shift in rank had already occurred, and barriers could suddenly be dropped. "He is a difficult man to predict. Be wary of unasked gifts from unlikely quarters."

"I will be."

"Yamamoto-sama would have given his recommendation as well, but his position as Commander General prevents him from putting forth candidates. He can only approve them. And as for _why, _as you asked… perhaps you do not realize how closely your career has been watched, from the moment you began your training at the academy?"

"I knew I was being watched," he admitted uncomfortably. "I didn't know it went that far."

"I think that is a good thing. It proves that you have been pursuing your goal for personal reasons, not for the recognition of others. The exam may be held as soon as one month from the submission of your request," he said then. "Will you be prepared?"

"I'm ready now."

"Good. I suspend you from your duties as my fourth seat officer from this moment forward. Should you fail the exam, you may return to them afterward. But I do not expect that to happen."

And because Komamura had chosen to speak to him honestly, as equals, Hitsugaya returned the favor.

"It won't," he said calmly. "There won't be any embarrassment for either of us."

It felt… right. And he felt a sudden connection with Komamura Sajin that he had not felt in all his years as a subordinate in his division.

A sense of proper place. A shared place.

Hyourinmaru was half a compound away, settled on the stand in his room, but Hitsugaya thought he could hear the dragon's voice, rumbling contentedly deep inside his chest.

They were on the right path at last.


	6. Part Six: Cracks in the Ice

_A/N: Author Alerts have been all messed up lately, so anyone interested in following "Facets" as well as this story might want to check my author page for updates, since the last chapter of Facets dealt with Hitsugaya's exam. _

_Also, my knowledge of Japanese clothing and weapon terms comes only from martial arts experience, which may or may not, on this Occidental shore, be entirely accurate. Anyone who can correct me, please do._

* * *

**FROZEN SKY**

Part Six: Cracks In The Ice

The Captain's jinbaori was a bit heavier than he'd expected, but Hitsugaya liked the feel of it just the same.

He'd had a moment's internal panic, when he walked into the 4th Division's equipping rooms to be met by three surprisingly intimidating tailors and what looked like several miles of white fabric, that they might insist on hemming up some pattern for a larger man, and that he would look like a total idiot with the emblem of his new rank trailing in the dust behind him. But fortunately they had been both extremely efficient and extremely polite. No one cracked a single joke about his height, and the whole affair was done in a matter of hours. They'd asked him if he wanted a full haori, but the thought of heavy sleeves over his kimono to hamper the movement of his arms was not appealing.

"Here it is, Hitsugaya-taichou," the lead seamstress had said somberly, settling the jinbaori on his shoulders. "We will make more, and have them sent to your division compound by tomorrow." Then she smiled unexpectedly, her cheeks dimpling. "I hope you like the green lining – I thought it would bring out your eyes."

At any other time he might have found the comment annoying, but running the smooth, soft edge of the front hem between his fingers, he couldn't find it in him to be annoyed by anything.

It occurred to him, as he was slipping Hyourinmaru's sash over his shoulder, that the sword would be blocking part of the kanji on his back, but that couldn't be helped. Never having to be separated from Hyourinmaru again made it a small price to pay.

Ten. Captain of the 10th Division.

Hitsugaya Toushiro, Captain of the 10th Division of the Gotei 13.

The words would flash through his mind at unexpected moments, and too often he caught himself almost smiling at nothing at all.

Fortunately, he'd had proper control over his expression when, two days after his exam, the evening of the day Yamamoto had formally invested him with his rank, he stepped out of the stone carver's shop where his official Captain's seal was being made and came face to face with a breathless Hinamori.

She stood there, bent over with her hands on her knees as though she had just run all the way across the Seireitei, and stared agape at him.

Hitsugaya held his breath, unsure what she would say, and not knowing what he really wanted to hear.

"Oh…" She put a hand to her mouth at last, and stretched out her other one as though to touch him, then dropped it. "Oh, Hitsugaya-kun… you… you look so… you did it! You really did it! Aizen-taichou told me, but I… is it all right to hug you now?"

There was a glint her eye as she said it that told him she was joking – but she waited for his permission all the same.

Unfortunately, he wasn't about to give it on a public street.

"Of course I did it," he said, stepping out of the doorway and off to the side of the shop. "I wasn't about to put myself forward for the exam if I wasn't sure I could pass it."

She opened her mouth, closed it, stared at him for a moment – her eyes traveling down to the distinctive markings on white – then met his gaze and smiled again. "You really shouldn't be frowning, you know. You should be proud! So proud. You're the youngest Captain in Soul Society's history! I only wish you'd told me sooner that this was your dream. We could have shared so many hopes!"

"It wasn't my dream," he muttered, looking away so that he wouldn't have to see the mixture of pride and sadness in her eyes. Guilt clawed its way into his stomach. "It was just something I had to do."

"I don't think I really understand, Hitsugaya-kun," she said quietly. This time her hand reached out and touched his shoulder, smoothing the white fabric there. "Maybe… maybe there are things you don't want to share with bed-wetter Momo anymore. And that's okay. You're a Captain now, and Captains have to keep their secrets. But I hope you'll forgive me if go around telling everyone how proud I am of you, and that you won't be too important to see me anymore."

The guilt crawled right up out of his stomach and into his throat, and for a moment he actually hung his head, his hands in fists, wondering….

But no, too late for that now.

Things had changed, and he had to build something different if he wanted to have anything at all.

"Of course I'm not too important to see you," he said, once he was sure he had enough control over his voice to achieve the proper casual tone. "You're a Vice Captain, Hinamori. Any Captain's office should be open to you. Mine included."

"Ah, well, that's good to know." She smiled again, never downcast for long, even now, and cocked her hands suddenly on her hips. "You're in for quite a lot of work, I'll have you know. You should see the amount of paperwork that Aizen-taichou has to do, and 10th Division has been without a Captain for so long that I bet there's old work up to the ceiling waiting for you."

"I'm sure Nakada took care of it," he said, trying to quell a sudden surge of doubt. Drowning in paperwork was the last thing he wanted to do in his first days as Captain of his own division.

"And I think you should know that Rangiku-san is especially terrible about punctuality, and I can't imagine that she'll be any better with paperwork, so you'll have to look out for that."

"Is it really okay for you to talk about another Vice Captain like that?" he growled, absolutely _not _wanting to be reminded of Matsumoto Rangiku and the meeting in store for him tomorrow when he finally took over his division.

She grinned. "Oh, Rangiku-san is a wonderful friend, even if she is a bit wild sometimes. But I just thought you should have fair warning. I know how you get about your work, Hitsugaya-kun."

"I've had all the warning I think I need, thanks."

"But don't you be mean to her!" she admonished. "You don't have to be so cold all the time!"

"Hinamori, are you done lecturing me?"

"Never," she said calmly, then suddenly threw herself at him and wrapped her slender arms tightly about his shoulders. Before he could react, either to hug her back or pull away, she let him go, wiping at her eyes. "I'm just… so proud. You're going to be a wonderful Captain, I know it."

Then, as though afraid she couldn't contain herself around him anymore, she gave him one last watery, brilliant smile, and ran off as quickly as she must have come.

It was a long walk back to 7th Division, but he barely noticed it.

Once there, as he made his way through the familiar hallways for what was probably the last time, people stopped in the middle of their activities to stare, turning to watch him as he went by. He recognized every face, and knew the names to fit most of them. Half of them were Shinigami he'd trained or supervised himself, and many of those who had served in his elite squads nodded respectfully at him as he passed. He still wasn't sure whether to feel proud or uncomfortable about it, but figured he'd better get used to it quick. Outside of 7th Division, the looks were likely to be a lot more dubious.

When he came to his quarters, he wasn't entirely surprised to find Imada leaning against the wall in the corridor, clearly waiting for him.

"Imada," he said, coming to a stop. White fabric settled against his legs with an unfamiliar whisper. "What are you doing here? Not another party…"

"No, Hitsugaya-taichou, certainly not," Imada said earnestly. "The other one went over _so well_ that I assumed one was enough."

Hearing Imada speaking sarcastically was unusual enough, but the title – from a man he knew well, not an unknown subordinate – was even stranger.

Of course, everyone would be a subordinate now. Everyone except for twelve others in white.

Odd, how there were so many things he hadn't fully stopped to consider before.

"I'm just here to pick up the last of my things," Hitsugaya said, breaking the suddenly awkward silence.

"I know. I wanted to tell you that you can leave everything here when you've finished packing it, Hitsugaya-taichou. I'll see that it gets sent on to 10th Division."

"You don't – " he began, but stopped himself. He'd been about to say that Imada could drop the honorific, but decided quickly that he'd better get used to it.

Better by far than not hearing it, when he'd worked so hard to earn it.

Imada, the expression on his scarred face as open and straight-forward as ever, merely shrugged. "It's no hassle. I'm sure you've got better things to do than carrying your packages around. I also wanted to say… congratulations." He stepped away from the wall, right into the center of the corridor, and bowed. "It was quite an experience serving with you, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"And with you," Hitsugaya replied, trying to sound less uncomfortable than he felt. "You were… a very good example, Imada-fukutaichou. Thank you."

The sense of a strong reiatsu drawing near effectively forestalled any further awkward conversation, and Hitsugaya struggled not to let his relief show. When Komamura entered the hallway behind Imada, his helmeted head nearly brushed the wooden ceiling. Imada stepped quickly the side to make way for his Captain, though between the two pairs of wide shoulders there was barely enough room.

"Hitsugaya-taichou, I was hoping for a last chance to see you."

"Komamura-taichou. I hope my final reports made it to you in time. I apologize for the delay."

"Understandable. May we speak in private?"

"Yes."

Imada nodded to them both and left without another word, but paused before turning the corner to give Hitsugaya one last wave over his shoulder, a last smile from Vice Captain to fourth seat. And then he was gone.

Hitsugaya stepped into his old room, made suddenly aware how small it really was by seeing Komamura in it for the first time.

"Did the investiture go smoothly?" Komamura asked.

"Yes. I guess I was expecting there to be more…"

"Ceremony?" Komamura said, with a hint of amusement in his voice that Hitsugaya had never heard before.

"People," Hitsugaya concluded. There had been only Yamamoto and two representatives of the Central 46 – one from the council and one from the judiciary – in the empty 1st Division hall.

"I suggested to Genryuusai-dono that you would prefer less spectacle."

"You did? Thank you," he said, with real gratitude.

"And now, before you leave, I would like to offer you a parting favor. It will be difficult taking over a division in which none of your subordinates are familiar to you. I cannot spare anyone above seventh seat, but if there is anyone for whom you would like to request a transfer, I would be happy to help you in this."

He was surprised by the generous offer, and thought it a bit unorthodox. But then again, what did he really know? Perhaps Captains made private arrangements like this all the time. There were probably a great many things he was going to discover over the next few years.

And it was an offer he was not about to pass up, because Komamura was absolutely right. It was going to be a real pain trying to break in an entire _division _of strangers, and even just one familiar face would be welcome.

"Yes," he said. "If it can be done, I would like to have Kentaro Yumiko transferred. I don't know what seat I can offer her yet, but I'll be sure she's given nothing lower than the ninth seat she already holds."

"Then it will be done. A good choice. I believe you knew her from the academy?"

"Yes. We shared our final student testing. And she…well," he stopped himself awkwardly. "She has always been easy for me to work with."

Meaning, of course, that she'd always treated him like any other peer, and respected him as a superior without question. Besides, she was also particularly good with kidou, and he wouldn't mind having someone whose expertise he trusted around to take a hand in kidou training for his division.

Komamura merely nodded.

"Komamura…" Hitsugaya said, dropping the honorific for the first time, because he could, and because he wanted his genuine feeling to be clear, "I want to thank you. Without your understanding, I wouldn't have been able to come this far."

"I know very well how difficult it can sometimes be, to overcome the prejudices of others in pursuit of your goals. You have no one to thank but yourself. I will see you again soon. The next Captains' meeting is in two months' time. But if you find that you need someone to speak with, I am always available."

"Thank you."

With a final exchange of respectful nods, Komamura ducked through the doorway and closed the screen behind him.

For a long while, Hitsugaya merely stood in the center of the room, letting the silence wash over him. His eyes moved over the familiar surroundings, and he realized that there wasn't much of anything left to pack. He'd never been one to gather personal clutter anyway, and once he packed away his brushes and ink, and put the sword stand and replacement cords for the saya safely away in a box, there wouldn't be anything left.

But after finishing he stayed in the room anyway, sitting in his favorite place by the opened screens that looked out over the garden, and waited for full night to fall. He wanted to leave with the least amount of fuss, and nighttime was better.

It would also be better for what he planned to do next.

He waited until the moon rose over the rooftops, then stood.

"Hyourinmaru," he murmured. "Are you ready?"

The dragon made no reply in words, but the sword at his back radiated an eager cold, and that was all the affirmation he needed.

He closed all the screens, checked the boxes one more time to be sure they were secure before Imada had them moved, and stepped silently out into the hallway. He kept to the shadows where he could, and moved with all the stealth his training had given him. No one noticed him until he reached the compound gates, where a new recruit was apparently suffering the usual hazing and was stuck doing unnecessary guard duty, leaning on his lantern pole.

"Oh! Uh… Hitsugaya… taichou…"

Hitsugaya just waved at him to relax and moved on, out into the shadowed streets.

He had a sudden urge to go see Jidanbou; he hadn't had a chance to visit the giant in months, and _now… _well, now he had some worthy news. But that would have to wait for later. It was far more important that he see his current plans through.

He turned northward, avoiding the pools of light cast by still open shops or food stalls, and kept up a good pace. The 8th Division compound soon came into view, and he took a few short cuts to avoid being seen from its front gate. He did the same on passing the 9th Division gates, and after several more shortcuts finally arrived at his destination.

He paused in a shadowed doorway and observed the 10th Division gate for some time. There were no sentries posted, but the gate itself was shut.

Hitsugaya folded his arms and settled in to wait. If there was anything he'd perfected over the last several years, it was the art of waiting.

Not until the moon was high overhead and he was sure the midnight hour must have passed did he slip out from his nook. He gathered himself and leapt lightly up onto the nearest rooftop then launched into a sprint, ending with a series of long shunpo that took him over the 10th Division wall.

It hadn't been _officially _announced what division he would command until the investiture just this morning, though there had been little doubt. But as such, the formal welcome and the necessary meetings had been arranged for tomorrow. Just a few hours from now, but Hitsugaya was not willing to wait that long. Tomorrow was going to be difficult enough, and the last thing he wanted was to need someone else to escort him around his own division compound. The most important buildings should be easy enough to recognize with just a little bit of private exploration. He had no intention of needing a guide to his own office.

But as he began his exploring, attentive for any sound, he found himself dangerously distracted, his thoughts drifting to the very thing he'd been trying to avoid thinking about all day.

Matsumoto Rangiku.

He hadn't _exactly _asked Yamamoto to give him a different Vice Captain. Not in so many words. He'd just grit his teeth and asked, as politely as he could manage, whether the Commander General thought they would be well-suited to each other. The old man's eyes hadn't even opened beyond their usual squint, and he had simply said, "She is well-known and respected in her division. You must resolve any issues between yourselves."

And that was that.

But as Hitsugaya slipped around a corner and put his hand against the wall of what was obviously the main training hall, Nakada Kisho's words came back to him. _"I should have thought that you of all people would understand the danger of judging someone based on their appearance."_

Maybe so. But he was finding it difficult _not _to judge, when the woman _had _to be completely conscious of the _state_ of her appearance.

It couldn't possibly bode well.

Sighing, he moved on in his exploring.

The compound was arranged similarly to that of the 7th, which was reassuring. There weren't quite as many small, hidden gardens, but more than a few open spaces that would serve the purpose well with just a little bit of planting and tending. He thought he might instruct someone to do so. Maybe even a watermelon patch. He could do that, now that he was a Captain.

He found the secondary training hall, the main dining hall, and the hellmoth lodges before finally deciding to sneak into the buildings themselves. It took a bit more finesse, since even at this late hour there were usually some people awake and wandering about, but he managed to sneak past two men engaged in a dicing match and one couple engaged in something a bit more personal without being noticed.

Somehow, he'd expected everything to be chaotic and jumbled inside; doors open, papers scattered, dust in every corner. But everything was neat and tidy, the wooden floors practically gleaming in the light of night lanterns, and there was no sound of drunken revelry to be heard.

Maybe they'd organized things in preparation for his arrival.

Maybe Matsumoto Rangiku ran things a bit more efficiently than he'd been expecting.

It was a hopeful sign, at least.

He got lost a few times, and had to find his way out of labyrinthine corridors with care, stumbling into more than one supply closet. But eventually he worked his way into the central buildings, and was even fortunate enough to come across the division archives, which were well organized but more than a little dusty. Well, he would see to that. And tempting as it was to start to digging through the scrolls right away, he forced himself to move on. It was creeping ever closer toward morning, and he needed to find his office.

It was with relief that he finally discovered the small hall, isolated by a narrow ring of greenery, with the kanji ten engraved on the panel over every doorway. If that wasn't the Captain's office, then he was going to have to do something about the decorators. Circling the building until he found the most inconspicuous of the doors, he slid the panels aside and stepped in.

Here there were no lamps lit, and he had to wait a bit for his eyes to grow accustomed to the shadows, but after a time the moonlight seeping through paper was enough to make out the furniture shapes, of which there weren't many. A few chairs, a small desk, and a larger desk in front of a window between two tall bookshelves. Moving slowly, savoring the moment, he walked over to the larger desk and pressed his palm against the smooth, cold wood. He smiled.

"What do you think, Hyourinmaru?"

A sudden gust of icy air whistled through the room, and the vaguest outline of the dragon's serpent shape – unusually small, but graceful as ever – appeared coiled around the foot of the desk, its transparent red eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

**_I think that you are pleased. _**

"Well… yeah."

**_Then I am pleased as well. _**

Hitsugaya settled himself in the chair, his good mood slightly soured by the discovery that he would have to get a chair with longer legs in order to be able to write comfortably at the desk. The desk itself at least was perfect. Plenty of room. He turned, one arm over the chair back, to peer through the shadows at the shelves behind him. Plenty of room there too. Just as he'd hoped. And in the day, with all the windows open, there would be plenty of light.

"Yeah. I'm pleased."

**_You have flown well. No one can question you now._**

"We're not done yet. But yeah. We made it. We're here." A moment passed, then he sighed and scooted the chair forward in order to fold his arms on the desk and rest his head there, letting all the tension drain from his shoulders. The weight of the sword at his back shifted, and a point of the tsuba poked him in the back of the head, but he didn't mind. He turned his face, cheek against his crossed hands, to meet the dragon's still hazy eyes. "Youngest Captain in Soul Society," he murmured. "I guess that's… something."

**_Something indeed. _**

"Thanks, Hyourinmaru."

**_You need not thank me, no more than you need thank yourself. We are one. We fly together, or not at all. You have claimed the sky, and so given it to me as well. Without you, I am nothing. _**

"Yeah, I know," he said, frowning slightly. It had all been said before. He wasn't really expecting more. Not from the dragon. But still…

The dragon shape took on a bit more solidity, and the head moved closer, its bearded chin almost resting on the desk top. White vapor gusted from the nostrils, and Hitsugaya closed his eyes, the better to enjoy the cool, crisp breath that washed over his skin.

**_But you are welcome, nevertheless. _**

Without opening his eyes, he smiled.

"Thanks."

A soft sound, the whisper of snow slithering over ice, and he knew the dragon's manifestation had faded. But the cold remained, comforting as always, and he knew just as instinctively that Hyourinmaru's spirit remained roused, with him.

And it was still smiling, certain of the dragon's presence, that he made the mistake he would regret for months to follow.

He fell asleep.

He would never be sure, afterward, whether it was the sudden intrusion of bright sunlight as windows were thrown open or the very loud voice which woke him. Probably a terrible combination of both.

"Good _morning, _Hitsugaya-taichou!"

Hitsugaya woke with a jerk, mortification already tightening his throat so that he could do no more than croak as he pushed himself up from his slump on the desk, so quickly that he nearly fell backwards out of his chair.

He blinked furiously, squinting in the bright light, and as his sight cleared the shadowy shape approaching him resolved itself inescapably into Matsumoto Rangiku, his Vice Captain, a positively indecent grin on her face and her breasts nearly falling out of her kimono.

"Did you have a good sleep, Hitsugaya-taichou?" she asked cheerfully, her voice still inordinately loud.

Hitsugaya had to resist the urge to leap up from his chair and…and… he didn't know what. Do something drastic that he would probably regret.

Thank all the gods that he hadn't been drooling.

"Imagine my surprise when I came in to tidy up and found you here, taichou!" Matsumoto went on, not waiting for a reply from him. She came to stand before the desk and folded her arms under her breasts in a way that just made them bulge more, if that were possible. Hitsugaya tore his eyes away, growing seriously terrified that her clothing would not contain her.

He cleared his throat, stopped himself from running a hand through his hair, and absolutely refused to betray his embarrassment by standing up. He would sit here calmly, damn it, like any superior before a subordinate.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou, I presume?"

"Of course! Who else would be in the Captain's office this early in the morning? I do hope you don't mind. I just wanted to make sure that everything was nice and organized for my new Captain's arrival."

Her tone was far too cheerful. He met her eyes, trying to determine if she was being sarcastic, but they were like mirrors; the morning sunlight lightened what was probably a clear gray into almost perfect whiteness, surrounded by a darker ring of color. There was no crack in her bright smile, and she only smiled wider under the weight of his inspection. She swept long hair back with a graceful hand, and cocked her head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hitsugaya-taichou. I'm sure we have a great deal to look forward to together."

"Well," he said at last, finally recovering enough composure to keep his tone cool, "we have a lot of work to do, at least."

"There's no need to worry, taichou. I'm a bit nervous too! This is my first day as a Vice Captain!"

He frowned. Then, deciding enough time had passed to make his point, stood up from his chair – only to wish that he hadn't. Standing, he could see just how tall she was.

"You passed your Vice Captain's examination decades ago," he said sharply.

"Well, yes, but you know, I haven't had a _real _Captain to serve here in the 10th, so I don't think it really counts," she said, sounding ridiculously happy about the whole affair.

It had to be sarcasm.

Hitsugaya shrugged, settling Hyourinmaru more comfortably across his back, and paced over to the open window.

"What time is it?" he asked, dreading to discover how much he might have overslept.

"Oh, it's the crack of dawn!" Matsumoto chirped.

Relieved, he breathed in deeply of the crisp morning air, and, his back safely turned to her, scrubbed at his face with his hands in an effort to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Well, if she was punctual enough to wake him up this early, then maybe Hinamori had been wrong.

"Do you normally like to sleep in longer, taichou?"

"No!" he practically shouted, then scowled, collected himself, and turned slowly from the window to face her again. "No," he said more calmly. "It was just… a long night."

"I imagine it was. It must have taken you some time to find the office in the dark. I wish you'd let me know that you were going to arrive early, Hitsugaya-taichou – I had a big welcome all prepared for you!"

Hitsugaya couldn't make himself feel guilty about it, even though he knew he probably should.

"It's better this way," he said, taking advantage of the light now to walk over and inspect the shelves. "Are these the division registers?"

"Yep! I organized them myself."

"Really?"

"Well, I helped."

He sighed.

"Would you like some breakfast? I think we have just enough time before the division inspection begins."

"Inspection?" he echoed, turning swiftly to face her again.

"Oh yes, I thought you might want to inspect the men right away, so I arranged the whole thing. They're probably gathering out there right now."

It was a good idea, if a bit unexpected so early. He'd thought he'd have some time to meet with the division's seated officers first, but maybe this was best.

It also meant he'd get out of this awkward private conversation all the faster.

"I don't need breakfast, but I'd like to see my living quarters."

"Oh, but you simply can't start the day without breakfast! I'll take you to your rooms and then come right back with something to eat."

"That's not neces -"

"Right this way, taichou!"

She practically skipped to the door, and he didn't have any choice but to follow. She hummed as she walked, and he followed along, hoping that they wouldn't come across anyone else on the way. Fortunately, she only led him a few steps down a short corridor, around a corner, and through a set of doors at the heart of the same building.

"All of the Captain's rooms are in this building," she said, sliding the doors open to reveal a small antechamber, and another set of doors with screens elegantly patterned with drooping black lilies – the 10th Division's symbol. She rolled these screens back as well, then waltzed on in. "Here you are! Your new home! Sorry if it's a little dusty – Nakada refused to live in here, so no one's used it for years and years. I was going to have it cleaned, but – "

"I'm here early, I know," he cut her off, trying not to let her cheery tone annoy him any more than it already was. He wished he could tell how much of it was faked.

It was a large set of rooms, and the noren separating the main room from the sleeping quarters was patterned with the same design as the screens. It was indeed a bit dusty, but no sign of any previous residents remained; the furniture was sparse, and no ornaments were to be found. The only signs of recent intrusion were the packages he had already had sent over from his early morning packing yesterday, and a silk sheet spread on a table over which the promised extra clothing had arrived from 4th Division.

"Where is – " he began, but turned to find that Matsumoto had already disappeared, probably to fetch the promised breakfast. Well, it might not be a bad idea after all. He was impatient to get started with business, but it wouldn't do to have his stomach growling during the division inspection.

She was back so quickly that he was sure she must have used shunpo to get to the kitchens and back. And the tray she set on the table for him was perfectly arranged. He frowned at it, beginning to suspect that she'd had time to plan for this in advance despite her protests. Had she done this before waking him? He couldn't help feeling paranoid about the whole affair. No one could be _that _cheerful so early in the morning. But when he turned his frown on her, she just smiled.

"Eat up! I'll be back as soon as the division is ready for your inspection."

And with that she was gone again, the ends of the blue scarf draped over her shoulders trailing in her wake. She left behind a lingering scent of perfume that made him want to sneeze.

He tried to tell himself that there could have been a worse way start to the day, though he was at a loss to imagine how. He had a very bad feeling that being caught sleeping his first day as Captain was something that could easily be held against him in future.

He ate quickly, tried to get his hair to stick down, gave it up for hopeless as usual, then paced restlessly until his Vice Captain's return. He hated having to wait, but he didn't know where to go, and was not about to start the day stumbling around like a lost child. That had been the whole point of his midnight mission in the first place.

By the time Matsumoto returned he'd worked himself into a foul, anxious mood.

"Is everything ready?" he asked quickly.

"Ready and waiting," she said, still smiling.

If she didn't stop smiling, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

"Let's go, then."

"Right away, taichou!"

Perhaps she picked up on his mood, because she said nothing more as she guided him through the compound, and he was glad for the opportunity to compose himself in silence. But as they exited a covered walkway to see a solid wall of black in the courtyard where the division was assembled, he had to restrain himself from asking whether she really meant to conduct this inspection with her kimono in that state. It was a hard thing to do, but he managed it. He was not going to be seen arguing with his Vice Captain first thing in the morning on his first day as Captain.

As they drew nearer, and the faces of the Shinigami in the first rows of the two facing sections grew more clear, Hitsugaya felt his heartbeat lurch faster.

His division.

Captain.

Here it was, the reality at last.

Matsumoto stopped at the head of the open row which had been left between the two assembled groups, and Hitsugaya, deep in his own anxieties, nearly walked on without her. He stopped himself just a pace in front of her, which was fine. It might help to mitigate the height difference a little bit too.

When Matsumoto spoke next, the cheerful, lilting tone had vanished. He was surprised to hear how low her voice became, and there was a huskiness to it that sounded almost menacing as she barked out, "Look sharp, people!"

The sound of rustling fabric as over two hundred Shinigami went rigid was loud in Hitsugaya's ears, loud even over the internal throb of his heartbeat.

"Hitsugaya-taichou," Matsumoto said loudly, again in that lower, compelling voice, "10th Division awaits your inspection."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and began a slow walk down the corridor of people. No one met his eyes. Everyone was taller than him, of course, but he tried not to think about it. His jinbaori felt heavy in its rustling against his legs, and the weight of it on his shoulders seemed greater than before.

Matsumoto followed behind him, silent, and when he reached the end of the corridor of people and turned, she was waiting with her hands clasped behind her back. The pose unfortunately thrust her breasts even more clearly into view, but for the first time all morning her expression was completely somber, a slight frown between her eyebrows. Her eyes had darkened to a smooth, sleet gray.

Hitsugaya swallowed, carefully so as not to be noticed, and hoped fervently that his voice would remain steady as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I know that it will take some time to learn the division's traditions," he said, making no effort to raise his voice. The morning air was still, and sound would carry well. Better to risk the people in the back not hearing than to make a bad impression shouting. "And I know it will take some time for everyone to learn my methods. I hope we can all be patient and look forward to a smooth transition."

The silence was perfect. Matsumoto didn't even blink, her eyes steadily on him.

He couldn't for the life of him think of anything else to say, so he didn't bother struggling with it. Straight to business, then.

"I'll want to observe training exercises this afternoon, three hours after midday. All squad leaders report to my office in two hours."

He gave Matsumoto a nod, hoping that she would interpret it correctly, and nearly sighed with relief when she turned immediately and dismissed the division with a few loud words and a wave of her hand.

The men and women scattered, discipline totally forgotten, murmuring in packs as they went. Nearly everyone looked back at him over their shoulders, and Hitsugaya tried to remain stoic, arms folded until the courtyard had emptied of all but himself and Matsumoto.

When she turned again to face him her smile was back in place, all signs of the somber – and much preferred – Vice Captain gone as swiftly as they had come.

"Well done, taichou!"

"Forget the pleasantries," he muttered. "I want to get straight to work."

Her eyes grew round. "So early?"

"What?" he snapped. "What do you mean, so early? You're the one who… never mind," he amended, getting a hold of himself. "I appreciate the inspection, anyway. Can I expect everyone to be this organized all the time?"

Something shifted in her smile, and for the first time he noticed the mole near her bottom lip. A shift happened in her eyes as well, and as with the change in her voice, there was something suddenly sharp behind eyes and smile both. Something decidedly cunning.

The dragon coiled to life in his chest, responding to the battle challenge.

"Well I guess that all depends," Matsumoto Rangiku said, holding his gaze, "on whether you make us _want _to be."

He met her gaze for several moments – saying nothing, staring her down, and wishing he didn't have to stare _up _in order to do it. Then he turned on his heel without another word and headed back toward his new office, already sure of his path.

His Vice Captain followed, her steps light behind him.

* * *

There was no overly-loud voice to wake him on his second day as Captain, but he woke with a start all the same, half-convinced that he'd been having nightmares about that voice anyway.

After that one moment of challenge in the training yard, Matsumoto had spent the rest of the day guiding him around the compound and introducing his officers in so persistently chipper a manner that he had gone to bed that night with a headache from clenching his teeth. No surprise that memory of that voice would have crept into his dreams.

It was a bit disorienting to wake in a new room, but after sliding off his futon he rested his hand on Hyourinmaru for a moment – the sword stand was the only personal article he'd bothered to set up before falling asleep – and just that touch was enough to reorient him to the world.

Opening the nearest window revealed that it couldn't be much more than an hour past dawn, but he couldn't have gone back to sleep even if he'd wanted to. Besides, if yesterday was anything to go by, he ought to get used to early starts.

He took care of his morning business quickly and went straight to his office, half-expecting to find Matsumoto already there, and couldn't help sighing a bit with relief when he found it empty. Several piles of paperwork already littered his desk; reports and requests piled up for his review, which Matsumoto claimed Nakada had left for him. "I thought you might want to dive right in!" she'd said.

Well, it wasn't too bad an idea, in the end. He could learn a lot from reviewing the budget manifests, even if he couldn't think of many more boring ways to pass the time.

He was already deep into it when a soft rapping came at the door. He set the papers down and drew a deep, steadying breath before giving permission to enter, but it was only a young Shinigami, her eyes downcast and on the breakfast tray in her hands. Not Matsumoto.

"Excuse me, Hitsugaya-taichou. I've brought your breakfast."

"Thank you. You can set it down there. I'll get to it in a bit."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you bring breakfast every morning?"

"The newer recruits take turns at it, sir."

"No, I mean… never mind. From now on, you don't need to bring breakfast. I can fetch it myself. You can worry about your other duties instead."

"Yes… yes, sir."

She bowed and left, frowning a bit as she went, as though confused. Hitsugaya shrugged it off with a mental note to himself to follow up with the kitchen staff, then dove back into the squad activity reports, and by the time he remembered to stop and eat the tea and food had both gone cold.

And Matsumoto still hadn't arrived.

He ate the meal cold, worked all the way through the most recent budget manifest, and by the shifting shadows over his desk as the sun shone through the window behind him, he realized it was nearing noon.

The doors opened without warning and Matsumoto swept in, smiling brightly.

"Good morning, taichou!"

Hitsugaya set his brush down and carefully straightened the stack of papers in front of him before answering. "It's not morning any longer."

"Woops! You know how time flies. I got so caught up checking in on the hellmoth cages that I must have lost track of time."

"What's the Vice Captain doing overseeing hellmoth care?" he asked, feeling the muscle in his temple begin to twitch.

"Moral support, taichou. It's such a boring job, you know. Every once in a while the guys need some… inspiration!"

There was something in the way she said it, something in the way she looked at him as she said it, that made him very sure he didn't want to know anything more about her idea of inspiration.

"Do you think you're quite done _inspiring _people for the day?" he bit out.

"Yes, I think I've done about as much as I can in that department for one day," she agreed, sighing as though it were heavy work.

"Wonderful. So if you could sit down and take a look at these squad listings, I'd like your assessment of the unit leaders."

"Of course, taichou. Whatever you say."

She took the papers from him and, much to his annoyance, leaned one hip against the side of his desk, making herself comfortable there to leaf through them. She hummed as she read, and Hitsugaya waited, with as much patience as he could muster, for her to finish.

And waited.

And waited.

The dragon had taught him to be patient, but that lesson seemed suddenly very far away, and easily forgotten.

"Well?" he said at last, rubbing at his temple.

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, the unit leaders. Well, what did you want to know?"

"I want to know what you think of them!"

"Which one of them?"

"_All_ of them!"

"So should I start with the youngest, or the prettiest?"

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou – "

"Oh, taichou, you should just call me Matsumoto. I'm _your _Vice Captain, after all. No need to be so formal."

She smiled as she said it and met his eyes, but again they were like clear, wide mirrors, and he had no idea what was really behind them.

"Start with Okubo, then," he said with a frustrated sigh.

"Well, Okubo." She set the papers back on his desk, straightened, folded her arms, and her entire demeanor shifted. He became suddenly aware of her reiatsu, and even muted, under control as it was, there was a sharp strength to it that surprised him.

"Okubo is good in the field, a natural leader, but he has no gift for training others," she said, her voice steady and low, and a slight frown between her brows. "It's best for his unit to share training with Yamaguchi's. Yamaguchi is a natural teacher, but not the best in the field, so his unit is pretty low on the combat rotation. They balance each other out."

Hitsugaya hoped very much that his expression wasn't betraying his surprise, but it wouldn't have mattered, because Matsumoto wasn't look at him now. Waiting for no further prompting, she went through the entire squad leader listing, rattling off information so quickly that it was all he could do to keep up, trying to lock it away in his mind for later reference. Toward the end, he had overcome his surprise enough to begin taking hasty notes, and it wasn't until several long moments had passed with only the sound of his brush moving over paper that he realized she'd stopped speaking.

He dipped his brush again, and said, without looking up, "Thank you." It came out a bit terse, but he couldn't help it, since what he _really _wanted to do was demand why she couldn't have got straight to the information in the first place instead of giving him the coy runaround. What was she trying to prove with it, anyway? Was it merely a test of his patience?

"Taichou, have you eaten lunch yet?"

"I don't need it," he muttered, still writing.

"Nonsense! Growing boys need their meals!"

He froze.

After a moment, he set down his brush, and looked up to find her watching him with a tiny smile on her lips, her eyebrows half-raised. A perfect picture of innocence, ruined only by the state of her clothing.

"Fukutaichou," he said coldly. "Jokes about my age, or height, or inexperience, will absolutely not be tolerated."

She met his narrowed eyes without flinching, and though her smile vanished she did not lower her gaze, and her hand remained confidently on her cocked hip.

"Understood," she said calmly. "You're our Captain. You are correct. No one has the right to disparage your age or height. Not even me."

"Don't take me for stupid, either," he said, and even with Hyourinmaru several steps behind him, resting against the wall, the temperature in the room began to drop. "I notice you left inexperience out of that speech."

"Yes. I did."

The moments seemed to stretch into years as they stared at each other, and it was Hitsugaya who finally broke the lock, retrieving his brush with a grunt.

"I'll take your point as long as you remember mine," he said sharply, already writing again. "So go and get us _both _something to eat, because we have a lot of work to do here."

She didn't argue or make any further pithy comments, only uttered a soft sound of acknowledgement and left – which was good, because he was at the very edge of his temper and if she'd pushed any harder he thought he might have snapped. As it was, her absence gave him time to calm down, so that when she returned he was able to pretend like nothing had happened. He handed her a stack of papers in exchange for his lunch.

"When we're done here I want to schedule another round of training exercises, each unit individually, so I can do some detailed observation."

"Yes, taichou," she said, and the cheeriness was back in her tone.

He drank some of the tea but otherwise left the food untouched, too intent on getting the paperwork out of the way as quickly as possible so that he could move on to more hands-on work, which he was sure would prove more critical at this early stage.

But he was used to working alone in a room – he'd taken care over the years to plan his time in 7th Division's offices to ensure his solitude – and the sound of someone else working nearby kept intruding on his concentration.

Matsumoto hummed while she worked. He shot her the occasional surreptitious glance, wondering if she _realized _she was doing it.

She couldn't seem to find a comfortable position, either. One moment she was sitting straight in her chair, the next she'd be slumped over the desk, head resting on one propped up hand, breasts practically obscuring her papers.

And she stretched altogether too often. No one could possibly need to stretch that much.

Fortunately, he'd safely diverted his attention back to his work when she spoke again.

"I think I'll go arrange the exercises," she said.

"Are those reports done?" he asked, not looking up.

"Oh, I can do those later, no problem. They'll be done before you know it. But we should give the squad leaders enough advance warning to really prepare, shouldn't we? I'll schedule everything for tomorrow, but they should know about it today."

"Mastumo – "

But she was already through the door, and all he caught as he looked up was the trailing end of her scarf and a waving hand.

She might have been right about the advance warning, but what kind of exit was that?

And now that it was safe to take a good look in the direction of her desk, the stack of papers there didn't seem to be any smaller.

He set his brush aside and rubbed at his forehead, willing himself to relax.

She'd said she would be back to finish them. Fine. He'd take her at her word.

And maybe she had the right idea. Maybe he should get out of this office earlier rather than later.

With that thought, he finished the report he was reviewing, sorted it into the finished pile, and turned his attention to food. He wasn't sure what Matsumoto had requested, but the spread was far too lavish. Something simpler would be better. Simple, but in quantity. And if the season was right, he could request watermelon.

That thought cheered him considerably. He _could _request watermelon. Even if he had to pay for it out of his own budget, he could easily afford it now.

It was with a lighter step that he settled Hyourinmaru across his back and left in search of the kitchens. When he arrived, he wasn't surprised to find the huge cooking hall fully staffed, even in the middle of the afternoon; there were a lot of Shinigami in a Gotei 13 division, and they all wanted to be kept well fed. The division kitchens typically only offered the most basic of fare, and people had to go to the shops and stands for their favorite delicacies, but even just producing staple meals kept the kitchen staff busy. When they weren't trying to work around those Shinigami who liked to think themselves adept at cooking their own meals, at least.

It took a few moments for anyone to notice him in all the bustle, but when he was spotted all activity came to a halt as the head cook called everyone to attention. Knives and ladles were held frozen at aproned sides while everyone bowed or eyed him curiously, and Hitsugaya felt suddenly awkward, as he never felt when standing at the head of a group of armed men.

Eventually he managed to convince the head cook that they could all get back to work, and was relieved when his request to make watermelon a regular part of his menu when it could be found was met with only a professional acknowledgment.

To his surprise, however, his request to stop the meal deliveries to his office was met with barely stifled indignation.

"No, Hitsugaya-taichou, it wouldn't be right for you to come and fetch your own meals."

"That's stupid," he said, his tenuous grasp on tact failing him. "Why waste someone else's time- "

"It wouldn't be _proper_," the head cook insisted, his nostrils flaring. "Not at all. If you don't want the recruits carrying the meals, then my staff can do it. But they'll be delivered one way or another."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm not allowed to visit my own division's kitchen?" he asked, exasperated.

"Of course not. You are here now, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"But you're going to insist that someone deliver me my breakfast."

"Yes."

"What about Matsumoto and the other officers? Do they have their breakfasts delivered?"

"Only on request."

"Then why – " he persisted, stubbornly unable to lose even so trivial a battle.

"You're the _Captain,_" the cook said, with such finality that clearly he thought this rebuttal indisputable.

They were being watched by now, of course, and it was the awareness of curious stares on him that finally convinced Hitsugaya it wasn't worth pursuing. At least not at that moment. Jyunrinan, being the first of the Western districts, might have been a bit more affluent than others, but it was still Rukongai. He'd never been waited on in his life, and had no intention of starting now just because he'd become a Captain.

But as he left the kitchens, heading out toward the training halls, he wondered how many other unexpected traditions he was going to end up butting heads with, and rather dreaded finding out.

* * *

It was late into the evening by the time he returned to his office, and he told himself that he had _not _spent the last few hours of the day searching nooks and crannies of the compound for his Vice Captain. No, he had been familiarizing himself with the layout, that was all. He also tried to tell himself that he fully expected to return and find all of the paperwork finished, but he was having as little success with that thought as with the first.

He realized he was being a little unreasonable; he was willing to admit that. It was only his second day as Captain, and things like this took time.

It just would have been so much easier to be patient with someone like Watari as his Vice Captain.

When he arrived at his office he was surprised to slide open the door and find the room cast in total darkness. There were windows all along the wall, and the moonlight coming through them should have been plenty to see by. He hadn't noticed any shutters, but clearly someone had blinded the windows.

He stepped cautiously in, sliding his foot forward along the ground so as not to lose steady battle footing; he'd trained too hard and too long to overcome certain instincts, and the office, though his, was still a new and unfamiliar place.

"Hadou thirty-three," he murmured, focusing his reiatsu over his upturned palm, "Soukatsui."

The blue fireball, carefully controlled, shed icy light into every corner of the room. He barely made out several large shapes before a series of small explosions went off all around him, blinding him with sparkling, colored lights.

He'd turned his hand, ready to the throw the fireball, and had Hyourinmaru halfway unsheathed before the sound finally hit him.

"Congratulations!"

"Welcome!"

"Well done!"

Blinking furiously to clear his dazed vision, his fingers curling tightly into the sizzling edges of his kidou spell, Hitsugaya swore to himself that he was going to kill somebody.

But first he'd have to find out who was responsible for this.

Matsumoto was standing in the middle of the room grinning like a cat, while Hinamori stood beside her, the ribboned remains of a small firework clutched between her hands. She was smiling brightly at him.

But of course, it couldn't merely end there.

Of course not.

The long-haired Captain of the 13th Division was standing to one side, waving, while another man, draped in flowered pink silk and holding aloft a sake jug in salute, could only be Kyouraku Shunsui. The only person in the room not smiling was Ise Nanao, standing beside her Captain, though even she was holding the remains of a firework like Hinamori's.

Hitsugaya's gaze swiveled back to Hinamori and Matsumoto. The blame had to lie there. One of them was going to have to pay for this.

"What the hell is this?" he snapped, barely restraining himself from shouting.

"It's a party, of course!" Hinamori cried, bounding forward. "Oh, put your sword away, Hitsugaya-kun! You deserve this."

"I _deserve_ to be left alone to my work," he retorted, though he did let Hyourinmaru slide back into the saya.

"I do hope you'll forgive the intrusion," Ukitake said, stepping forward. "But it's been so long since we had a new Captain join the ranks. It's a good cause for celebration."

"Ukitake-taichou," Hitsugaya began.

"Please." He put his hands up, still smiling. "Just Ukitake."

"Ukitake-taichou," he repeated firmly, out of pure stubbornness, since he would have much preferred dropping the honorific himself, "I appreciate the sentiment, but – "

Kyouraku descended on him in a swirl of pink silk and flowery fragrance, laying one hand warmly on his shoulder. "Toushiro-kun, it's wonderful to meet you at last! I've heard so much about you."

Then again, properly respectful address wasn't really _that_ much of a hassle.

Hitsugaya couldn't help it; he knew he was scowling, and abruptly decided not to bother trying to control it.

"Kyouraku-taichou, I presume?"

"Oh, please, call me Shunsui," he said, flapping his hand languidly.

"Please, call me Hitsugaya-taichou," he replied through gritted teeth.

To his intense frustration, Kyouraku merely chuckled. Hitsugaya wondered how much sake was actually left in that jar.

"Congratulations, Hitsugaya-taichou," Ise Nanao said quietly, pushing her glasses more firmly up her nose. "I apologize for the disturbance."

"You don't have to apologize, Ise," Hinamori said stoutly, setting aside the firework streamers on Matsumoto's desk – which was still piled high with papers. "He's just being stubborn. He'll relax once he eats something."

He was about to growl something in reply, but shut his mouth sharply and turned away, stalking to his desk.

Unfortunately, Ukitake was in the way.

"Unohana would have been here, but there was an 11th Division emergency, so she's been unfortunately detained," Ukitake said, still smiling. Then, with a swift motion, he pulled something out from behind his back. "Here you go. It's not much, but I thought a little something to decorate a new office…"

"It's a potted plant," Hitsugaya said flatly, staring at it.

"So it is." Ukitake beamed.

"I guess… thank you." Hitsugaya took the plant; it didn't seem like he had a choice.

"Oh, and just a little something for when you get peckish," Ukitake added, producing a small, lumpy bag from thin air.

"What is it," Hitsugaya asked dryly, "plant fertilizer?"

Kyouraku Shunsui chuckled into his sake, and Hinamori sighed. Ukitake just smiled. "No, no. But go ahead and save it for later."

Hitsugaya took the bag and finally worked his way around Ukitake to his desk, setting plant and bag both on a corner of it, and himself in the chair. But before he could pull out papers to use as an excuse for why he really desperately needed to get back to work right this minute, Hinamori was suddenly at his side and taking the brush right out of his hand.

"Hitsugaya-kun, please," she said. "Don't be grouchy. It's a special night. Celebrate it with us."

He stared up at her, trying to maintain his frown, trying to keep his heart closed, determined to set his foot down right now and make it very clear that he intended to be treated with respect, with dignity, that he intended to be a _Captain_, damn it!

But even if Kyouraku hadn't been there, producing sake bowls out of his sleeves like magic, or Ukitake, mumbling something about looking for the rest of the fireworks, "They're Shiba, you know," he was saying, "very special, shouldn't waste them," both men putting the lie to Hitsugaya's stubborn belief that this was not the sort of thing a Captain should be doing… even without that, he wouldn't have been able to stand firm in his protests. Not with Hinamori looking down at him like that, her wide eyes shining with the _certainty _that he couldn't say no, not to her, not when she asked so earnestly.

And of course he couldn't.

He wondered if he ever would.

"Hinamori," he sighed. "You know I hate this sort of thing."

But she knew him too well not to recognize his complaint for surrender. She smiled brightly, and for a moment he feared she was about to try to ruffle his hair. But instead she clapped her hands together once and then reached deep into her sleeve to produce a tiny envelope, which she set down on the desk in front of him.

"What's this, then?" he asked resignedly, picking it up. Something inside shifted, like tiny rattles.

"Watermelon seeds! I thought maybe if you planted them right now they might be ready in time for autumn."

He couldn't think of anything to say. But he closed his fingers around the little envelope and pulled it in close, as though he might be able to catch a scent of melon from the seeds within.

Finally, he grunted. "It's too bad that _isn't _fertilizer, then," he said, nodding to Ukitake's lumpy bag.

"Just make sure you invite me over when they're ripe," Hinamori said, needing no more thanks, and then turned away to ask Ise something about cake.

Hitsugaya opened a drawer and carefully put the watermelon seeds away.

He sensed Matsumoto's approach even before he looked up to see her standing across the desk from him.

"It was all Hinamori-chan's idea," she said airily, a suspicious bright pink already high on her cheeks. "I hope you're not _really _mad, taichou!"

"I don't know why I'm so certain," he said, meeting her eyes, "but I find it hard to believe that you didn't have a hand in this."

"So suspicious, taichou?" she said, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. "I'm hurt!"

"I doubt that," he muttered.

"But I think Ukitake is right – you need to relax!"

"Ukitake thinks I need to relax, does he?"

"So does Unohana," she said, a strange glint in her eye.

"I'm so glad you're talking about me with everyone behind my back! When the hell did you people have the time – "

The door slid open with a bang, and two figures nearly tripped inside, balancing a huge cake precariously between them.

"Watch what you're doing, flea-brain!"

"_You _watch it, monkey-girl! _I _was holding it perfectly steady – "

"The cake!" Hinamori nearly shrieked, rushing forward with Ise at her side. Just in time, the two Vice Captains caught and straightened the platter right before it would have tipped its contents onto the floor.

The loud newcomers – Kotsubaki Sentaro and Kotetsu Kiyone, he would soon learn – argued their way over to Ukitake's side, both of their faces speckled with icing.

Matsumoto rushed to join Hinamori and Ise, the former two fluttering worriedly about the cake in a salvage operation, while Ise offered calm suggestions and magically produced a cutting knife with the same graceful aplomb with which her Captain had produced sake bowls.

For the moment, nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him, no matter the supposed purpose of the party, so Hitsugaya took the opportunity to drop his head and set his forehead down briefly against the cool desktop, praying for patience. When he lifted it again, ready as he was ever going to be, he stood up from the chair and went over to inspect the cake. No use wasting good cake.

But he took Hyourinmaru with him.

* * *

He woke with a blazing headache, though he couldn't be entirely certain what had caused it. The dangerous indoor fireworks, maybe. Kotsubaki and Kotetsu's constant bickering. Altogether too much cake. He also suspected someone – probably Kyouraku, that drunken maniac, how could he possibly have been a Captain for two millennia? – had tried to spike his drink.

Determined not to let a party, of all things, lay him low on just his third day as Captain, he crawled up to meet the morning, took care of the business of making himself presentable, and hauled himself to his office.

The potted plant still sat on his desk, and next to it the breakfast tray which someone had already brought in for him. He sighed, but took the tea cup gratefully in his hands to let the warmth seep into his fingers.

The office was a general disaster area. Who would have thought that one party, with only eight people, could have caused this much damage? But then, he'd made his retreat before Kyouraku and Matsumoto had finished their drinking game, so who knew what had happened after his departure.

Well, when Matsumoto got here, she could take care of the mess she'd made. Right along with the stack of papers that were still on her desk, having somehow survived the night unscathed.

"Next time they can have their damn party in the hellmoth cages," he muttered, but quickly changed his mind. The poor hellmoths didn't deserve it.

Then he noticed something strange on his desk, the one area of the room which had, through his vigorous intervention, made it through the night untouched.

It was a small object, square, wrapped in brown paper.

Frowning, he pulled it to him and tugged open the binding string. Inside there was a strip of paper on top of a wooden box. He lifted the paper to find a short note written there, in large, bold writing.

_I went ahead and picked this up for you so you wouldn't have to. I thought you might want to use the time in other ways. _

He didn't recognize the writing, but it had to be from someone who had been here last night. Not Hinamori; her writing, he would have recognized.

He slid back the lid to the small box to find his Captain's seal within, resting on a bed of blue silk. He lifted the stone chop and peered at the engraving. His name, the division kanji, the division flower. And there, tiny but unmistakable, curling around the bottom edge, was a dragon.

Hitsugaya frowned. He hadn't said anything about adding a dragon. Where had the artisan gotten that idea? What had he heard?

And then he noticed that there was something written on the inside of the wrapping paper. He pulled it toward him, smoothing it out over his desk, and after a moment realized he was looking at a rough map of the inner buildings of the division compound. And traced in red ink between the black lines representing buildings and corridors, someone had delineated a strange, circuitous route from the Captain's rooms to the kitchen pantries.

At the bottom of the rough map was written: _Follow this path and no one will see you. Can't work on an empty stomach!_

The writing matched that on the note, and he knew now whose it had to be.

Maybe Matsumoto had heard about his visit to the kitchens. Maybe Hinamori had gone on one of her embarrassing rambles last night, when he hadn't been paying enough attention, about how little Shiro-chan always had such a big appetite and needed to be kept well supplied with big meals. He didn't want to imagine it. It made his face burn just thinking about it.

He didn't know what had made Matsumoto think he would find a shortcut to the kitchen pantries useful, but there was no doubt that he would. Leaving the too-frequent urge for midnight snacking aside, this way he would be able to get the rest of his meals without having to ask for someone to bring them to him. He could deal with breakfast deliveries, in that case.

Carefully folding the rough map, he slipped the brown paper into his kimono, intending to memorize it when he got back to the safety of his rooms. For now, breakfast was already here, and he had work to do before the day's training inspections began.

Hours passed before Matsumoto showed up, looking far too chipper to have been drinking all night long, and far too unapologetic to have arrived so late.

But Hitsugaya let her tardiness pass without a word.

He told himself it was in thanks for the map, and that he wouldn't be so kind if it happened again tomorrow. But had he known he was heaving only the first of many defeated sighs, with countless late-morning starts like this to look forward to, he might have been considerably less generous.

It would take him some time to fully accept that Matsumoto Rangiku had routed him right from the start.


End file.
